


Forgive Us Our Trespasses

by ChristineP



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Language, M/M, Sexual Situations, mild physical abuse, teenagers being teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineP/pseuds/ChristineP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The holidays are usually a time of joy and celebration, but not for Draco when he discovers Scorpius has disappeared. In desperation, he goes to the one person he knows he can trust to help find his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive Us Our Trespasses

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

'Forgive Us Our Trespasses'  
by: Christine

 

Draco’s eyes never left the paper as he avidly read the _Daily Prophet_. An article announcing the latest prison breaks from Azkaban worried him. The newspaper hadn’t specified who the escapees were as of yet, but they speculated on which prisoners had fled. The list of names didn’t quite resonate with Draco as he continued to read-- he’d forgotten who a few of them were.

“Dad?”

Draco tore his gaze away and looked up when an insistent throat clearing caught his attention. “Did you say something?”

Scorpius frowned and folded his arms, leaning against the marble fireplace as he adjusted his glasses. His stance was eerily reminiscent of his grandfather’s, right down to the look Draco was given. “You weren’t even paying attention, were you?” he asked, sounding petulant. “I _said_ the tree’s ready to be decorated.” Draco glared at his son’s tone, his gaze unwavering as he watched Scorpius shuffle his feet and look down, unable to meet his father’s eyes. Scorpius was a good lad most times, but there were a few instances when he tried his father’s patience … this was definitely one of those times.

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was in the middle of reading something and I just didn’t hear you.” Draco folded the newspaper, placing it on the antique Italian sidetable and stood up, wincing as his back popped when he stretched. “Has Trixie found the box of lights already?”

“Yeah, she brought it in a few minutes ago.”

Draco nodded in satisfaction and walked towards the three meter high Christmas tree, feeling a crick forming in his neck as he tilted his head back to get a good look. “All right, son, let’s get started.” They worked silently on the tree until Draco looked inside the box full of lights. “How in Merlin’s name do they _get_ like this every year?” Draco asked in bewilderment as he held up a tangled bundle to show Scorpius. “I’ve tried wrapping them around my hand and elbow to make a neat circle, I’ve even tried using magic, but they always end up like this.” He stared at his hand in stunned amazement. “I just don’t understand it.”

“Maybe it’s one of those odd occurrences in the universe?” Draco gawked at him. “Well, that’s what Albus thinks. It’s happened to them as well, so it can’t just be us.”

Finally, when the last of the decorations was hung, Draco stepped back to appraise their work. Scorpius tilted his head to the side and glanced at the tree, scrutinizing it. “It looks good, but it’s missing something.”

“Hmm?” Draco frowned at the tree. Nothing seemed out of place. The baubles were hung neatly, the tinsel was evenly spaced, and the pièce de résistance … Draco paused. “Ah, yes. The tree topper.”

Scorpius made agreeing sounds. “I knew we forgot something. Trixie,” he called, not taking his eyes off the tree, “could you hand me that box near the wall, please?”

The house-elf trotted over to where Scorpius pointed absently and retrieved the box, bringing it over. “Here is the box young master wanted.”

“Thanks.” Scorpius bent over, digging through the box until he found the tree topper. It was an old silver star with bare spots where glitter had once been.

Draco watched Scorpius flick his wand, levitating the star onto the top of the tree. He stared at the decoration--eyes shimmering briefly--as memories of years past came flooding to the forefront of his mind. There was Scorpius—no older than five-years-old— rushing into the study, pulsing with excitement as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

 _“Daddy, Daddy!” Scorpius cried as he ran full-tilt into the study. “Guess—guess what I made!”_

 _Draco rubbed his chin in an overly exaggerated manner and sat back in his chair. “By the looks of the glitter covering you from head to toe, I’d say a mess.”_

 _Scorpius shook his head, making his platinum blond hair whip about his face. “No, Daddy, I din’t make a mess!”_

 _“Are you sure about that?” Draco asked in mock sternness._

 _Scorpius paused in mid-bounce, face scrunched up as he thought. “No, Mummy wouldn’t like that.”_

 _“You’re right, Mummy **wouldn’t** like that. And I’d never hear the end of it.” He said that last part under his breath. “All right, I give up—what’d you make?”_

 _Scorpius squealed excitedly as he brandished something from behind his back. “I made a Chris’mas tree dec-or-ation.” He held it up in front of his father’s face. “See?”_

 _Draco suddenly found his lap covered in silver sparkles as the glue on the star hadn’t fully dried yet. He reached out and gently steadied his son’s small hand to get a better look. “You didn’t make this, you bought it,” he teased._

 _Scorpius placed his balled up hands onto his hips and huffed. “Nuh-uh, Daddy. **I** made it!”_

 _“You did not!”_

 _“Did too! I’se not a liar!”_

 _“I know, son. It’s a very well-made star,” he quickly said when he noticed Scorpius rubbing at his eyes. “I have an idea: why don’t we put it on the tree?”_

 _Scorpius bounced once more. “Yeah! You’se going to use your wand t’ do it?”_

 _“Of course.” Draco stood and bent down to pick Scorpius up. “Oomph, has Trixie been slipping Skele-Gro in your milk? You’ve gotten so big.”_

 _Scorpius giggled and wrapped his glitter-covered arms around his daddy’s neck. “You’se silly, Daddy.”_

 _As soon as they came upon the tree, Draco put his son back on his feet. “Ready?” At Scorpius’ enthusiastic nod, Draco pulled his wand out from his back pocket and levitated the star to sit at the top. “There; now it’s complete.”_

“There. Now it’s complete.”

Draco blinked as he found himself back in the present and turned towards Scorpius. “It looks good, son. I’ve still got some shopping to do; why don’t we head into Diagon Alley while the house-elves prepare dinner?”

“Good idea. I still haven’t found anything to get Albus.” Scorpius sighed and rolled his eyes. “He’s _so_ hard to buy things for: always so picky. If he wasn’t my best friend, I wouldn’t bother.”

“Like his father?”

“No, it’s just _really_ annoying.” Scorpius walked to the coat rack to retrieve his black overcoat. “Can we stop by Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes? I wanna see if they have anything that Albus might like.”

Draco grabbed his own coat and paused. “Must we?” he asked warily.

“Dad,” Scorpius scolded, “it’s been over twenty-five years, I seriously doubt they’re going to hex you on sight. Besides, didn’t Mister Potter and some of the Weasleys come to mother’s funeral for support?”

Draco finished buttoning the last button on his green silk coat. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Scorpius replied cheekily. “Don’t worry so much. It’s turning your hair grey.”

Draco lightly swatted the back of his son’s head before opening the front door and walking out into the cold evening air. They walked down the path of the front garden in silence until they reached the wards surrounding the manor. Draco pulled his wand out of his sleeve, muttering a spell to allow them to pass through. As soon as they did, he replaced the wards and waited until Scorpius Apparated away before he followed.

*~*~*

Draco found himself in an alley just outside the Leaky Cauldron. He looked around, grimacing in distaste at the piles of rubbish lining the walls and ground. He suddenly felt the need for a long, hot shower as a strong wind blew around them, swirling bits of the litter around their feet. Draco wrinkled his nose in repulsion as a foul odor, brought in by the wind, permeated his senses.

“Scorpius, we’re Flooing into the Leaky Cauldron next time.” He froze in mid-step when he felt something squish under his shoe . Draco hesitantly lifted his foot and noticed a very unpleasant substance on the bottom of his shoe. “Well, these shoes are ruined.”

“Did you step in dog poo?”

“Either that or something no longer roaming this Earth,” Draco replied tightly, scraping the sole of his shoe on a piece of cardboard. “Let’s go before I step in anything else.”

Scorpius snickered as he led the way out of the alley. He stopped to hold the door of the Leaky Cauldron open for his father when they got to the front of the building and whispered, “Why is it always so dark in here?”

“Vampires,” Draco replied offhandedly, walking through the crowded room full of bedraggled patrons as they headed towards the back.

“Vampires? They don’t sparkle, do they?” Scorpius asked, bumping into his father’s back when he stopped suddenly.

Draco gave Scorpius a mystified look. “What?”

“Never mind,” Scorpius replied, waving the question away. “Just a book Lily made me read last year.”

“Is it any good?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Scorpius said, walking around his father.

Draco took in a deep breath of the cold air once they were outside—thankful to be out of the musty atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron—only to wrinkle his nose as he caught a whiff of something offensive. He pulled his wand out quickly and tapped on the bricks, stepping aside as the wall fell away to allow them through.

“Where should we go first?”

“Uh, Dad … you know I love you, right?”

Draco turned, giving Scorpius an intent look. “Yes.” He froze when Scorpius began to fidget. “Why?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Well … I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind terribly if I shopped by myself?”

“Ditching your poor old father already?” Draco asked with amusement, smirking at the scandalized look on his son’s face.

“No.” Scorpius paused at his father’s knowing expression. “All right, yes, I am. But not because I’m ashamed of you or anything, I just don’t want my friends seeing me hanging out with my father. I mean, come on, Dad. I’m seventeen.”

Draco folded his arms in irritation. “I know how old you are.” He sighed at Scorpius’ pleading expression. “Fine, Mister Seventeen-year-old, but meet me outside Weasleys’ shop in two hours. Understood?”

“Thanks, Dad! See you later.”

He watched Scorpius jog down the street before turning into the nearest shop to do some of his own shopping … alone.

*~*~*

Two hours later, Draco made his way down Diagon Alley, heading to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with wrapped packages in hand. He stood quietly off to the side, glancing at the passersby as he waited for his son to show. He knew Scorpius was bloody awful at being on time anywhere, so he expected his son to be somewhat late showing up. That was an unfortunate trait he received from his mother.

He continued to search the crowded streets for his son when an hour seemed to pass and there was still no sign of him. He tried not to worry, but couldn’t seem to help it. He thought that maybe Scorpius had grown weary of the cold and had decided to wait for him inside instead.

Draco spared one last look around before he finally went into the shop. It was just as he had expected: packed with children running from shelf to shelf, laughing and chattering among themselves. He ignored them as he scanned the crowded shop for any sign of blond hair.

“Malfoy? This is a surprise. Shopping for a gift?”

Draco turned around to see George Weasley looking at him curiously. “Weasley—I see you haven’t changed. Going for the poor beggar look?”

George snorted. “Why are you here? You’ve never been one to mingle with the common people.”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m looking for my son.”

“Scorpius?” George looked around the shop. “I don’t see him. Are you sure he’s even here?”

Draco stared at the redhead. “Yes, I’m sure. I told him explicitly to wait for me outside. I came in thinking that perhaps he was browsing through your wares.”

“I haven’t seen him, but if I do, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.” George looked over Draco’s shoulder. “I have to go; the run up to Christmas is our busiest time of year. Excuse me,” he said and hurried off.

Draco glowered at George’s back as he walked off. He glanced around the bustling shop once more before finally exiting. He quickly scanned the crowd, wondering where in Merlin’s name his son had run off to.

He was becoming more vexed as time went on. Where had his son gone? _Scorpius, wherever you are, I hope it’s worth giving your father an ulcer._

Draco jumped, startled, when an owl suddenly landed on his shoulder. He gave the poor bird a fierce look as it hooted at him and stuck out its leg. Draco quickly relieved the owl of its burden, ignoring it as he read the note.

  
We have taken your son without you  
knowing about it until now.  
If you don’t pay us 50,000 Galleons  
within one week’s time, we will  
return your son to you in pieces. Do  
not attempt to contact the Department  
of Magical Law Enforcement.  
We are watching you.  


Draco gawked uncharacteristically at the note as he read through it a second time. Someone had taken his son—his _only_ son—and was demanding money for his life? He read the note over and over, committing the words to memory as white-hot fury boiled in his blood. _My son, the single most important person in my entire life, has been kidnapped._ Draco stared off into the distance. _I don’t even know if he’s still alive or if he’s…_ Draco swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, closing his eyes as a few wayward tears collected beneath his closed lids. _What do I do?_

He gathered as much of his composure as he could. _I can’t go to the Aurors—they probably wouldn’t help me anyway._ Draco glanced around, glaring angrily at the innocent bystanders going about their business. _God damn useless, Muggle-loving idiots. I bet nobody saw a bloody thing. Of course not. They were doubtlessly enjoying time with their families—shopping for worthless trinkets to put under the tree._ He suddenly deflated at that thought. _Just as we were._ He palmed his forehead, a feeling of helplessness overcoming him stronger than at any time in his entire life. Sixth year seemed like a wonderful holiday compared to how he felt at that moment. _I can’t do this myself, no matter what front I put on. But who can I trust with this?_

Draco blinked as a thought came to him.

A face.

A face hidden behind ugly glasses and messy hair.

With an intent look, Draco quickly spun in place and disappeared.

*~*~*

“Hey, Dad? Did Mum say when she’d be home?”

Harry finished rinsing off the last dish in his hands and placed it in the drying rack. He preferred doing certain chores without magic as it left him time to think things over. “I believe she said around five. Why?” Harry turned to look at Albus. “Impatient to see Lily and James?”

Albus folded his arms and blew out a breath. “No, Mum said she’d help me pick out a gift for Scorpius.”

“Well … why can’t I go with you?”

“Uh, Dad.” Albus cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I appreciate the offer, but, eh … your taste in fashion kind of … sucks.”

Harry frowned. “It does not.”

Albus snickered. “Dad, whenever you went to any official functions, Mum had to pick out your clothes.”

Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose in irritation. “That only happened once. Your mum didn’t think my usual suit and tie was appropriate enough to meet with the wizarding Ambassador of Germany.”

Albus laughed loudly. “Sure, Dad.” He turned, walking out of the kitchen. “I’ll be in my room. Let Mum know?”

“I will,” Harry replied, wiping his hands on a towel. He turned when he heard a knock on the door. “Albus?” he called. “Can you get that, please?”

“Okay.” Harry frowned when he heard Albus speaking to their guest.

“Hi, Mister Malfoy,” he greeted. “Where’s Scorpius?”

“I need to speak to your father. Is he here?”

“I’m here,” Harry said, walking into the sitting room. “What’s going on?”

“I need your help,” Draco said brusquely.

Harry looked curiously at Draco standing on his porch. The other man barely ever said more than two words to him unless it was discussing their children’s friendship. He wasn’t sure what exactly Draco wanted, but it had to be of some importance for him to come see Harry. “With what?”

“May I come inside? I don’t want your neighbors listening in.”

“Of course,” Harry replied, stepping aside to let Draco by before closing the door. “Erm,” he said awkwardly, “care for a drink?”

“No, thank you, I won’t be long.” Draco looked around the sitting room.

“So what is it you needed my help with?”

Draco paused and took a breath. “It’s about Scorpius.”

“Scorpius?” Albus asked, bouncing in place as a worried expression blossomed on his face.

“Albus, sit down,” Harry said in exasperation, absently pointing to a chair. Albus gave him a mutinous look before sitting down. “What happened to Scorpius?”

Draco sat down as well and crossed his legs at the ankle, looking from Harry to Albus. “About an hour ago I received a note from an anonymous source.” He handed the note to Harry.

Harry frowned as he read. “Do you know who sent this?” he asked, waving the parchment around.

“No … hence the word ‘anonymous’. Anyhow,” Draco continued, ignoring Harry’s annoyed look, “I don’t recognize the handwriting or the intonation. All I know is _someone_ kidnapped my son and I need you to help get him back.”

Harry sat beside Draco. “The note said not to contact the Aurors; don’t you think coming here might be construed as doing just that? I mean, I’m retired, but I don’t think the kidnappers will care about that little detail.”

Draco glared at Harry. “I—”

“Dad, what the hell!?” Albus cut in, angrily jumping up from his seat to look fiercely at his father.

Harry’s head snapped up. “Al, I know you’re upset, but you’d better rethink your tone with me.”

Albus looked at the floor in contrition. “Sorry … but Dad, we _have_ to help Scorpius. If we don’t, who will? You _know_ the Ministry couldn’t give a toss less—”

“Your father’s right, Albus,” Draco interrupted softly. “I can’t ask him to endanger you or the rest of his family.” He stood up, straightening his coat. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, Potter.”

“Hang on!” Harry shouted, rising to his feet to try and stop Draco from leaving. “Malfoy, I never said I wouldn’t help you, I just suggested it might not be a wise decision.” He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose tiredly. “I’ll help you, but I may need to enlist the aid of a few people.”

“Granger and Weasley?”

Harry gave him a strange look. “I’d ask how you knew that, but it’d be a rhetorical question, wouldn’t it?” Draco nodded. “It’s too late to do anything tonight, but I’ll begin first thing tomorrow morning. Sound good?”

“Wonderful.” Draco’s tone suggested it was anything but and stood up. “I need to make preparations for the ransom demand.” He stopped when he was an inch away from the door. “Thank you, Potter.”

Harry blinked in surprise at the gratitude he heard in those three quietly spoken words as he watched Draco leave. In all the years Harry had known Draco, the blond had never thanked him for anything. Shaking his head, he turned and walked back into the kitchen.

*~*~*

The next day Harry found himself in the middle of Diagon Alley. It was Christmas Eve and people were moving from shop to shop with a purpose. He walked along the street, looking for anything the kidnapper might have left behind in their haste.

“It’s Christmas Eve and here I am walking through Diagon Alley in search of “clues”. For all I know, Malfoy has Scorpius stashed away in his library, training him to be an evil spawn like his father.” Harry looked up in time to see an elderly witch hurrying down the street in the opposite direction. “Maybe I shouldn’t talk out loud to myself?”

When he finally came upon his ex-brother-in-law’s shop, he turned the corner into the alleyway to see if there might be something hiding somewhere, waiting to be discovered. Harry stopped when he noticed a bit of cloth sticking out of the mound of snow nearby. Bending down, he noticed that it was a dirty white cloth. He pulled his wand out of his sleeve and used it to poke at the cloth as he tried to maneuver it out.

“Come on, come on, you stubborn piece of … Finally.” Harry pulled the item out of the snow, dangling it from the end of his wand. As he was inspecting it, he caught the scent of something odd coming from it. Bringing it closer to his nose, he took a cautious sniff and felt lightheaded all of a sudden.

The sweet-smelling odor coming from the cloth brought forth flashes from his time as an Auror-in-training. He recognized it as chloroform … but why would a witch or wizard use a Muggle anesthetic? _Did they forget their wand?_

His eyebrows furrowed as he thought things over. Harry shook his head as he glanced around the frozen ground. He bent down, waving his wand at a bit of rubbish he found nearby and transfigured it into a plastic bag to place the cotton scrap into. He looked around the area once more to see if maybe he might have missed anything else. When nothing else presented itself, he turned in a circle and Apparated away.

*~*~*

“Here’s your tea, Father,” Draco said, setting the tray on the coffee table before taking a seat across from Lucius.

Lucius closed his book— _How to Find Your Son a Date and Other Useful Tips_ —and placed it on the table beside him. He leaned forward, helping himself to a cup as he said, “You realize we have house-elves to do that?”

Draco rolled his eyes as he leaned forward to pour some tea into his cup. “So I’ve noticed,” he quipped. “You know I hate feeling useless. I can’t just sit by and do nothing while Scorpius is in the hands of Merlin only knows who.”

“I know.” Lucius took a sip of his tea. “Pardon my poor attempt to liven things up.” He exhaled noisily. “I take it you went in search of Potter’s aid in this matter?”

Draco sat back with his cup and stared into its murky depths. “Yes, but I’m not sure it did any good.”

“Oh?”

“He agreed to help me, sure, but I’ve only got six days to arrange for the money and pray that I’m not shelling it out in vain.”

“I don’t understand.”

Draco leaned back, fighting back the tears that wanted to spill and knowing his father wouldn’t take too kindly to the action—current situation or not. “Okay, I go to the bank, assemble the fifty thousand Galleons those barbarians want and make the drop off. Who’s to say I’ll get Scorpius back, or if I do, that he’s even still alive?” Draco wiped at his eyes. “I know it’s only been a day, but what if Scorpius is…”

Lucius opened his mouth and closed it just as Trixie popped in. “Masters, Harry Potter is here. He is wanting to see Young Master.”

Lucius looked at his distraught son. “Show him to the lounge. My son will be there momentarily.”

The house-elf bowed until her nose touched the marble flooring. “Yes, sir,” she replied and popped away.

Draco blew his nose into a handkerchief, sniffed and looked inquiringly at his father. “Wha—?”

“You are in no shape to go rushing off to see Potter.” Draco lowered his head in shame at being caught crying by his father. “Draco.” When Draco didn’t look up, Lucius said, “My little dragon?”

Draco stared at his father in shocked pleasure—he hadn’t been called that since he was eight.

“I may not have been the best father to you growing up, but I have seen the way you are with Scorpius.” He touched his chin with his finger tips. “I see no harm in showing emotion over one’s child. They can be both an irritation, and a complete and wonderful joy. I am very proud of your strength and determination.” He smiled. “Now, if you’re feeling up to it, go and speak with Potter. No doubt he is thinking we’re sacrificing small woodland creatures or something else horribly passé.”

Draco nodded as he stood up and walked out of the room.

*~*~*

“Have you found anything new?” Draco asked as he strolled into the lounge. He smirked as Harry visibly jumped before turning away from the window.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Harry shook his head in self-deprecation. “I never should have retired—my skills are getting rusty.”

“I doubt it,” Draco replied, sitting down on the sofa. “We charmed the flooring to absorb noise. You wouldn’t believe how loud it could get when Scorpius used to drop his toys. Mother’s nerves took quite a long time to settle down.”

Harry smiled and leaned against the wall. “I can imagine. I always wondered how James’ toys seemed to end up in places he’d never been to before.”

“Indeed.” Draco leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Have you found anything new?”

Harry sobered. “Yes, I did actually,” he said softly. “I went back to Diagon Alley to look for anything the kidnapper may have left behind.”

“What did you find?”

Harry dug through his pocket and pulled out the plastic bag. “I found this,” he said, showing it to Draco.

Draco accepted the bag, turning it in his hands as he examined it. “A white cloth?” He frowned and handed it back to Harry. “Your detective skills astound me, Potter. You do realize wizards make just as much rubbish as Muggles?”

Harry shook his head. “I know that, but this is different. I noticed chloroform coming from it…”

Draco blinked, confused. “Chloro-what?”

“It’s an old form of anesthetic Muggles used in the mid-nineteenth century. It was banned around the seventies since it suppresses the central nervous system at very low levels. Now it’s mostly found in refrigerants. ”

Draco stared at him in wonder. “You asked Granger what it was, didn’t you?”

Harry was slightly unsettled. “Um, yes and no. I knew what it was off hand, but not the details. Why—and she’s called Weasley now, not Granger.”

Draco waved his hand, shrugging indifferently. “Granger, Weasley, whatever. Only _she_ would know that much useless information about anything out of the ordinary.”

“She does love her information, I’ll give you that. But as I was saying, if it was a wizard or witch who took your son, why would they need to use it?” Harry gestured with the hand holding the bag. “A well-placed Stunning Spell, Silencing Charm, or even a Full Body-Bind Curse would have incapacitated Scorpius long enough to take him away without much fuss.”

“Well, we know this person isn’t a Muggle since owls wouldn’t work the same way as a carrier pigeon,” Draco stated. “Not to mention the fact a Muggle would have one hell of a time entering Diagon Alley.”

“How do you know about carrier pigeons?” Harry asked, confused.

Draco shot him an amused look. “Not all magical folk are completely ignorant about the ways of Muggles.” Draco folded his arms and looked off to the side. “Besides, Scorpius is taking Muggle Studies—though for the life of me I can’t understand _why_ —and he told me about the different forms of communication they used throughout the centuries.”

Harry sat beside him. “If it wasn’t for the fact that Scorpius looks eerily like you and your father, I’d almost think he was adopted.”

Draco looked over at him, expression grave. Finally, he smiled faintly. “He’s a special breed, all right.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded with a grin. “I don’t get the same ‘death to all Muggles’ vibe like I did from your father.”

They both looked up when they heard a voice say, “Young Master is still with Harry Potter, sir. You is not to be disturbing them.”

Harry and Draco stood up as Lucius entered the lounge. He looked from one to the other. “Potter, have you found my grandson yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it as we speak.”

“Good.” Lucius looked around the room and nodded. “I want the person who did this brought to justice as soon as possible. But not before I’ve had some ‘fun’ with him first.”

Draco sighed. “Father,” he said flatly. “This isn’t the right time.” He cocked his head towards their guest.

Lucius gazed at Harry as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re right. That’s a thought to dwell on at a later time.” He sat down and crossed his legs at the ankle. “So, Potter … how are the wife and kids?”

Harry shared a bewildered look with Draco. “Uh … they’re fine. I’m not married anymore, though.” He looked at Draco. “Ginny wanted to play Quidditch professionally, which was fine by me, but it would have taken her all over the world, so she thought an amicable divorce would be better for all around.” Draco frowned, but nodded.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Lucius asked out of the blue.

“Er, not at the present time.”

“Good, good.” Lucius leaned back, folding his arms. “You know, Draco here is widowed. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better—”

“ _Father_!” Draco shouted, scandalized. “This is neither the time nor the place to try to set me up with anyone … least of all Potter here.”

Lucius ignored him and continued. “You see, Potter, Draco isn’t getting any younger and I don’t want to see my only son living like a monk. He doesn’t date and I’ve never seen him bring home a piece on the side…”

Draco made a strangled noise.

Harry cleared his throat. “Erm, I think I’d better go now,” he said awkwardly, moving quickly out of the room.

“I’ll see you out,” Draco called, moving just as quickly. “I’m sorry about that, Potter,” Draco apologized when they reached the foyer. He opened the front door and said, “Father hasn’t been the same since Mum died.”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve encountered worse. You were never married into a family with George Weasley.”

“There is that,” Draco agreed, smiling brightly.

“I need to go anyway; I have to meet with Hermione again. She was looking into a few things for me when I came over.”

“All right,” said Draco softly. “I’ll be here, making sure Trixie doesn’t nip into the butterbeer again. I know father drives her up the wall—I sometimes wonder if he thinks she’s Mum.”

Harry nodded and left. Draco sighed as he heard his father say, “Is Potter still here? I wanted to ask him if he’d like to go on holiday with us next summer.”

“The entire world is mad save for me and thee, and sometimes I wonder about thee ,” Draco muttered, closing the front door.

*~*~*

Harry sat at the kitchen table, staring at the evidence bag he tossed from hand to hand. It just didn’t make any sense—the only reason a wizard might use a Muggle item would be if they were actually a Squib. Harry dropped his head onto his outstretched arms, making the table thump as he did so. “I need a hobby—I hear basket weaving is nice.”

“Harry?” He heard his named called from the sitting room. “Are you here?”

Harry lifted his head. “In the kitchen, Ron.”

“Do you know what’s got Hermione staying late at the office recently? I’ve asked her, but she said it’s a case she’s working on and wouldn’t say much else.” He paused. “You all right, mate? You look as if Voldemort rose from the grave and asked you to go skinny dipping with him.”

Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not sure I should tell you since you’re still working in the Auror Department.”

“Tell me what?” Ron asked as he sat across from Harry.

Harry thought it over a minute. Finally, he said, “A few days ago, Malfoy came to me with a serious problem—”

“Malfoy? What’d he want?”

“Scorpius was kidnapped,” Harry replied quietly.

Ron sat back, aghast. “Blimey,” he said softly. “What have you found out?”

Harry stared at him, flabbergasted. “You’re okay with me helping Malfoy?”

Ron snorted. “Harry, give me some credit, yeah? I can’t stand the git and wouldn’t piss on him to put a fire out—he’d probably enjoy that—but Scorpius is a good kid; Rose and Hugo always speak fondly of him.”

“That’s good … I think.” Harry sighed. “The only clue I have is this rag with a Muggle substance on it, and nothing else. It’s like one second Scorpius was there and the next he vanished.”

Ron chuckled. “One does tend to vanish into thin air when one Apparates.”

“Yes, Ron, I know. I mean, there’s no other evidence to be found. I enlisted the help of Hermione to see if she might be able to come up with anything I overlooked. But you know how she is—library first.”

“Well,” Ron said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “do you need another set of eyes on this case? I want to help get Scorpius back too, if I can.”

“Thanks,” Harry said softly. “But you can’t tell anyone else. Not your friends and not the other Aurors. The note said the kidnappers were watching his every move. I’m hoping when he came to me it didn’t look too suspicious—retired or not.” He rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “It might not raise any bells with me interacting with you and Hermione since we’ve been best friends since first year, you know?”

Ron nodded. “I understand.” He thought a moment. “I have a few low-brow contacts I could talk to—see if they heard anything useful.”

“That’d be great, Ron, thanks.”

“Sure thing.” He stood up. “I’d better get back. The kids are due home from visiting friends—why they decided to choose Christmas morning, I’ll never know.” He shrugged. “Reckon you and the kids will be over for dinner?”

“I hope so; I can’t do much else at the moment.”

Ron nodded. “All right, I’ll see you then,” he replied and left.

Harry watched him leave before staring back down at the bag in his hands. “I hope Hermione had better luck than I did. I’m suddenly feeling useless.”

*~*~*

 _Ugh. I feel like I was knocked for six._ Scorpius groaned. _Wow, that light sure is bright. Maybe I should open my eyes a little slower?_ He cautiously opened his eyes and blinked. When the room finally stopped spinning, he looked around. _Wonder where I am? This room doesn’t look familiar—actually, I can’t see very much of anything since my glasses seem to be missing._ He tried to move his hands and frowned when he couldn’t. _Why am I tied to the chair? Last thing I remember is taking a short cut through one of the alleys toward the joke shop and then everything went black. How long have I been here anyway?_ Scorpius jumped in his chair as a loud noise startled him. _Wherever I am, I don’t think I’m alone._

“I see you’re finally awake.” Scorpius heard from across the room. He squinted, trying to make out the form, but everything was blurry.

“Where am I?”

The form came closer. “My place, but that’s not important. What _is_ important is that I have you and your father doesn’t.”

Scorpius squinted, concentrating on the figure standing in front of him. He could just barely make out a recognizable shape. “You look somewhat familiar—do I know you?”

“Not formally. I’m sure your father or grandfather may have mentioned me a time or two.”

Scorpius frowned, thinking. “I still have no idea. My glasses are gone and I can’t see without them.”

The man sighed in annoyance. “No matter. The name’s Macnair.” Scorpius gasped. “Ah, I see you recognize me now.”

“Macnair? I thought you were dead or in Azkaban.” Scorpius paused. “I really should read the newspaper more often.” He fidgeted and stared blankly at Macnair. “Er, why am I here? Does my grandfather owe you money or something?”

“No,” Macnair replied flatly. “This is all because of your father.”

“My father?” Scorpius asked, straining to see the other man. “What’d he ever do to you?”

“I suppose he never told you what really happened during his sixth year. It makes no difference—not with what I plan on doing.”

Scorpius fidgeted, feeling sweat pool in the dip of his neck. “What do you plan to do?

“What fun would that be if I told you?” Macnair countered with a wicked smirk.” Scorpius gulped in sudden dread and leaned back. “I left your father waiting for me to owl about the ransom drop.” He moved to stand directly in front of Scorpius. He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the other man’s foul breath. “I think I’ll add a little incentive—show that I haven’t killed you.” He paused. “…yet.”

Scorpius’ head bounced painfully off the back of the chair as he was punched in the face, splitting his lip and bloodying his nose. He winced, spitting blood out of his mouth as he glared intensely at the ex-Death Eater. “I don’t know what you think this will accomplish,” he commented, trying to sound braver than he felt. “Roughing me up isn’t going to make my father move any faster if he doesn’t know where I am.”

Macnair laughed—spittle flying out of his mouth and hitting Scorpius in the face. “I plan on taking pictures of your face—proof that his son is still alive, if a little worse for wear.” Scorpius groaned as another punch came at him, he moved just enough for it to land on his cheek this time.

 _Where are you, father?_ He couldn’t help but whimper in pain as he bit his tongue. _I hope he finds me soon before this maniac decides punching isn’t enough._

*~*~*

“ _Potter_!”

Harry almost fell out of his chair at the bellow that rung from the sitting room. He jumped to his feet, banging his knee on the underside of the table in his haste. “Ow! Son of a bitch,” he swore, rubbing his knee as he left the kitchen. He skidded to a stop at the sight of Draco covered in soot. “Malfoy? Did you Floo here?” He looked intently at Draco, noticing the fury radiating off the man in waves. “What happened?”

“Do you know what that _monster_ is doing to my son!?”

“You received the next note?” Harry asked, bewildered.

Draco waved his hands in obvious rage. “Did he send the note!? Yes, he sent the bloody note! Not only did he send it, but he sent along a picture as well!”

“Malfoy, calm down before you blow the roof off my house!” Harry cried as he dodged a flailing limb. “Let me see what’s got you so worked up.” He grabbed hold of Draco’s wrist so he could extract the item from his hand. Draco growled low and stalked over to the sofa, landing heavily onto a cushion. When Harry was fairly certain Draco wouldn’t start shouting again, he carefully read the note.

  
You will deliver the  
money by 16.00 on the 30th. You will place  
the Galleons in a non-descript bag in the  
rubbish bin outside of the Tesco on Commercial  
Street of Dewsbury in Kurklees.  
The consequences will be dire should you  
fail to follow instructions.  


Harry frowned at the note as he turned it over to see if there was anything written on the back. _Why would they want the drop off to be in the middle of a largely Muggle-populated area? What advantage would this give them?_ He shook his head, trying to understand the psychology behind the kidnappers’ motives, but all that did was give Harry an even worse headache than the one he currently had. He ignored the note for the time being and flipped to the picture.

“Dear God,” he whispered in horror as he took in the state of Scorpius’ face. The young man in the picture looked back defiantly through his black eye and split lip as an arm came into the frame to strike him. Harry tossed the picture down onto the coffee table, too outraged to watch the image replay over and over.

Harry turned to see that Draco looked as if his entire world had come crashing down around his ears. “Malfoy?”

“What, Potter?” Draco looked up. “There’s nothing more to say. Whoever this bastard is, he’s torturing my son for whatever reason he has festering in his sick little mind.” He stood up and gathered his composure. “You read the note—I have less than five days to get the money together or he’ll kill Scorpius.”

Harry moved to stand in front of Draco. “He might kill him even if you do give him the money.” He grabbed Draco’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. “You can’t do this by yourself. If you could, you wouldn’t have come to me in the first place, right?”

“What else am I supposed to do—call their bluff? You saw the picture, Potter, I doubt it was spelled. Now unhand me so I can go.”

Harry held on tighter as Draco tried to shake his grip off. “I’m not letting you go, Malfoy. Not in the state you’re in now. Why don’t you stay here—I have an extra bedroom you can use. It’s not exactly the manor, but it’s warm and comfortable.”

Draco looked tiredly at Harry. “Why are you doing this? I’m not exactly the nicest or easiest person to be around—especially now. So, why this sudden change?”

“Despite what you may think, I’ve never actually hated you.” Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Harry interrupted him. “I’m not saying you were never a pain in the arse, but when push came to shove, you weren’t able to kill Dumbledore and I never thanked you for that.”

“I was young and stupid back then,” Draco said quietly. “Now I’m just old and stupid.”

Harry stared into Draco’s eyes. “You’re not stupid—a little misguided, perhaps, but not stupid.”

Without thinking much of anything, Harry slowly moved forward, pausing when he was within a few inches of Draco’s lips. When the other man didn’t pull away or hit him, he closed the gap between them and brought their lips together.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him even closer, until their chests were pressed together, and Harry's hard-on was trapped between their stomachs. Draco kissed him, probing vigorously with his tongue until Harry could do little else but to open his mouth to the onslaught.

They reluctantly pulled apart, giving themselves some breathing room when Albus’ voice carried out to them. “Dad, was that Mister Malfoy I heard?” Harry willed his erection down before turning to face his son, who walked into the room. “Were you and Mister Malfoy fighting again—you’re both a bit red in the face.”

“Mister Malfoy will be staying with us for a few days in the extra bedroom. I want you to be on your best behavior while he’s here, all right?”

Albus rolled his eyes and gave his father an annoyed look. “Dad, I’m seventeen, I _think_ I can behave for your guest. Besides, I’m not the one you should be telling this to—you know what James and Lily are like.” He bent over suddenly, noticing the picture, and picked it up. “What’s this?”

Harry tried snatching it out of his hand before he could get a look at it, but that only made his son more eager to see what was on it. Harry braced himself for the outburst he knew was forthcoming. “Wha-what?” Albus stammered, staring in horror at the bruised and bloody image of his friend.

“Albus…” Harry whispered, finally snatching the picture out of his son’s hands.

Albus stared in shock at the floor. “That’s Scorpius.” He looked up at his father, betrayal and accusation shining in his eyes. “You were going to keep this from me, weren’t you?”

“I didn’t want to upset you—”

Albus clenched his fists at his sides. “You didn’t want to upset me? My _boyfriend_ is God only knows where, being beaten and bloodied, and you didn’t want to _upset me_!?” His voice crescendoed to a yell, making Harry wince, before he turned and bolted down the hall towards his room. Harry jumped slightly as the door slammed shut.

“Of all the things I was expecting, that definitely wasn’t one of them.”

Harry turned to give Draco an offended look. “Malfoy—”

“Don’t go getting your knickers in a twist—it’d be hypocritical of me if I didn’t approve of their relationship.” Draco leered at Harry. “I’m just surprised,” he said seriously.

Harry looked contrite. “I’m sorry … I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.” He looked down the hall. “I’d better go talk to him—God only knows what he’s thinking of our reactions.”

Draco nodded. “It probably didn’t occur to him when he lost it, but I think you’re right.”

“Come on: let me show you to the bedroom first so you can get situated. We can pick up any clothes you’ll need later,” Harry said as he led Draco down the hall to the second door on the right. “Albus’ room is further down—if you need anything, I’ll be there.” He left Draco to get settled while he went in search of his son.

*~*~*

 _If I knew parenting was going to be this complicated, I might have rethought my decision to have any children._ Harry stared at Albus’ door for a few moments, gathering his courage. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say to his son. _Should I start with the weather?_ Harry chuckled softly at that thought, shaking his head, and knocked on the door.

“Go away,” he heard in reply. Harry knocked again, this time a bit more forcefully. “Fine, come in before you break down my door —I’m sure James would just _love_ that.”

Harry kept the grin off his face as he opened the door and entered his middle son’s room. He found Albus lying on his stomach with his head buried in his pillow, shoulders occasionally shaking. Harry frowned before sitting next to him. “How are you holding up?” he asked as he rubbed his son’s back, trying to comfort him.

“Oh, brilliantly,” Albus replied, sarcasm dripping from every syllable as he raised his head. “Not only is my boyfriend being held against his will, but I unintentionally outed ourselves as well.” He dropped his head back onto the pillow.

“Albus, intentional or not, neither I nor Mister Malfoy cares if you’re in a relationship with Scorpius.”

Albus raised his head to stare in shock at his father. “You don’t?”

“The only thing I care about is your happiness. Scorpius makes you happy, doesn’t he?” Harry asked softly.

Albus absently wiped tears from his face as he sat up. “Of course he does.” He sniffed, smiling weakly at his father. “He’s kind, funny, and really smart. He doesn’t realize it, but he actually annoys his fellow Ravenclaws with how smart he is.” Albus looked down and began picking at a loose string on his dark duvet. “Dad, I miss him so much.” He looked up. “Why would someone take him? He’s never done anything to anyone in all the time I’ve known him.”

Harry frowned. “I’m not sure why. Some people in this world blame others for their mistakes and some just don’t care who they hurt in their need for power.” Harry shrugged. “I dealt with similar situations when I was at Hogwarts, and I’m still not sure why people do what they do.”

“Dad, please tell me you’re doing everything you can to get Scorpius back,” Albus begged, leaning against his father.

Harry blinked at his son before wrapping his arms around him. “You know I am. I’ve even got your Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron to help.”

Albus snickered softly. “With Aunt Hermione helping, we’ll find Scorpius in no time.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second.” Harry pulled back to look at his son. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” Albus replied truthfully. “I’m still worried about him, but I don’t feel as helpless as I did earlier knowing Aunt Hermione is trying to find him as well.”

Harry stood up. “You want me to fix you something to eat?”

“No, I think I’ll just lay down for a nap. I kind of wore myself out crying.”

Harry nodded. “All right. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Harry smiled lightly in reply and left.

*~*~*

“Everything all right?”

Harry looked up to see Draco leaning casually against the wall. Pressing a finger to his lips, he beckoned Draco to follow him to the guest bedroom, closing the door as they entered. “Sorry—he’s taking a nap now.” Harry folded his arms. “To answer your question, he’s doing better. I was able to calm him down enough to relax a little.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “He’s still worried of course, but who isn’t?”

Draco sat down heavily on the bed. “What’d you say to him?”

“I told him his Aunt and Uncle are helping to find your son.” Harry moved to sit beside Draco. “He seemed to perk up after that.”

“Potter, about earlier…”

Harry sat back on the bed. “I meant what I said, Malfoy.” He leaned around to peer at his face. “I don’t have any regrets, do you?”

“Not really.”

“Not really?”

Draco thought it over. “Well, maybe just a few. Not because it was _you_ that I kissed, but—”

“But?”

“Is this actually the right time for us to even contemplate this?” Draco questioned, staring at the wall. “My son is being held prisoner somewhere and here I am, wanting more.” He cupped his face with his hands.

“Draco, we don’t have to do anything. Scorpius is more important.”

“That’s just it!” Draco growled, glaring at the wall. “I _want_ to!”

“Draco…”

Draco turned to look at Harry. “No more talking.” He moved closer to Harry, making him lift his head. “I need this.”

Harry leaned forward suddenly. “I-I think I could do that,” he replied softly as he scooted closer and pressed his lips against Draco’s. Harry sighed quietly as Draco pulled him against his chest. For a split second he thought maybe he was interpreting the situation wrong.

He blinked, frowning in disappointment when Draco pulled away. “ _Accio_ wand,” Draco said unexpectedly. Harry ducked as Draco’s wand flew across the room and landed in his hand. Harry gave the other man a bewildered look. “Best to be prepared … unless you have oil stashed in your jeans?”

“It’s not something I normally carry around with me. The container could burst open at an inconvenient time. People would probably think I'd pissed myself.” Harry snickered, trying to diffuse the tense mood and raised his voice from a low tenor to a falsetto. “No need to be ashamed, Harry. Bladder control fades with age—I read that in a book somewhere.”

Draco doubled over in laughter. “I could just picture that—but you’ve got it all wrong, Hermione! The bottle of oil I keep in my trousers broke and leaked out … honest!”

Harry chuckled, glasses askew from his laughing fit. Draco cleared his throat as a few errant chuckles escaped and pushed Harry back until he lay against the bed with his legs hanging over the side. “I think you have too many clothes on,” he said at the same time he began to undo the fastenings to Harry’s jeans.

“I’m not the only one,” Harry replied, grabbing the hem of Draco’s dark blue dress shirt and pulling it up and over the blond’s head with some maneuvering from his companion. He tossed it aside—much to Draco’s grumblings—and sat up, pressing their lips together once more. Harry pulled away and kicked his jeans off once Draco pulled them all the way down, leaving him in only his blue y-fronts and Chudley Cannons t-shirt. Draco stood up, quickly undoing his own fastenings and pulled both trousers and boxers down his thighs to pool on the carpeted floor.

Harry suddenly looked everywhere but at Draco when he noticed the other man was completely naked. “Do you want to stop?” Draco asked, not unkindly.

“N-no,” Harry replied shyly. He took a deep breath before slowly turning his head to take in Draco’s physique. Harry swallowed as he got a good look at Draco’s firm abdomen, tight thighs, and his—dear God—erect cock.

Draco cocked his head to the side, giving Harry a funny look. “Are you all right? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a man naked before.”

“Oh, I’ve seen naked blokes before, just not up close and personal, and they weren’t sporting a hard-on—though there was that one time with Seamus in the lockers, but I didn’t stare or anything. It was just sort of _there_.”

“Uh-huh.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders, giving Draco a sheepish look. “Erm, want to help me finish undressing?” Harry asked, changing the subject.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Draco replied with a smirk, moving quickly towards the dark-haired man to lend a hand. After a moment of maneuvering, squirming, and losing his glasses somewhere in his t-shirt, Harry was finally just as naked as Draco. “My, my, Potter,” Draco purred. “If I’d known this was hiding under all those baggy clothes of yours, I might have listened to my father’s advice sooner.”

“Uh, could we not talk about your father right now, please?” He pointed down towards his semi-erect penis. “I’m losing interest here.”

“Sorry.” Draco shimmied down Harry’s body until his knees touched the floor. “Let me rectify that,” he said, bending his head.

Harry gasped, bending his legs and lifting his arms above his head to clutch at the side of the bed as Draco engulfed his cock in his mouth. He’d had blow jobs before from Ginny when they’d been together, so he wasn’t exactly new to the experience, but Draco definitely seemed to know what he was doing. Draco wrapped a hand around him, moving it up and down in time to his sucking, making Harry want to buck his hips to get more of the wet heat surrounding him. Draco suddenly pulled off just as Harry was about to come, eliciting a sob deep from his chest.

“Malfoy!”

“Really, Potter, you’re forty-three-years-old—ever hear of ‘self-control’?” Draco taunted, pumping his hand slowly up and down Harry’s prick.

Harry lifted his head and glared blurrily at the cock-tease fondling him. “There’s having self-control and then there’s being tortured—right now, I’m feeling the latter.”

Draco made ‘aw, isn’t that a shame’ sounds at his soon-to-be lover. “I guess I should get to it, then, yeah?” He bent over the side of the bed, rummaging through his trousers. Draco sat back up with wand in hand and pointed it at Harry’s bum. “ _Scourgify_ ,” said Draco suddenly, waving his wand over Harry’s nether regions.

Harry squeaked, squirming against the mattress as he felt like his intestines had been yanked out, given a good scrubbing and then shoved back in just as quickly. “Jeez, Malfoy, warn a bloke next time you do that.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, sounding anything but apologetic, “but I’m not sticking my prick anywhere that isn’t pristine.”

“Hang on, why am _I_ the one being cleaned around here?” Harry asked, clutching at Draco’s thighs. “I don’t remember volunteering to ‘catch’.”

Draco huffed out a loud breath of air. “Potter, I’ve seen your cock—and as much as I hate to admit this—it’s a fair size larger than my own.” Harry gave him a smug look, groaning as Draco reached down to stroke the cock in question. “I’d prefer to be capable of walking for the next few days, all right?”

Harry nodded half-heartedly-- he’d have agreed to anything at that point--enjoying the attention to his growing erection. He gave Draco an annoyed look when the other man stood up again. “What are you doing?”

“I need you to turn so your head is facing the headboard,” Draco replied, pointing to the area he mentioned. “I don’t need you falling over the side of the bed, knocking yourself out cold when we get started.”

Harry grumbled silently as he positioned himself. “Better?” asked Harry petulantly.

“Wonderful.” Draco got back on the bed and helped Harry to bend his legs again. “I’m going to prepare you now—ready?” At Harry’s nod, Draco waved his wand, quietly muttering a spell as he did so. Harry opened his mouth, but Draco silenced him with a hand. “I know, you feel like you’re going to slide off the sheets, yeah?”

Harry gave Draco a murderous look. “Yes, but I was going to say that we should put a Silencing Charm around the room, so Albus doesn’t rush in here thinking we’re killing each other.”

“Oh … good point.” Draco waved his wand. “ _Silencio_.” There was a brief shimmer in the air as the spell surrounded the bedroom. Draco dropped his wand—it landed quietly on the bed—and moved to lean over Harry. He lowered his head, pressing his lips against Harry’s, and slowly slid a finger inside.

Harry squirmed a bit at the odd feeling of having something up his arse, but relaxed into it as Draco licked between his lips, seeking entrance into his mouth. Harry sighed as he opened his mouth, swirling his tongue against Draco’s. He was glad he hadn’t eaten anything that would leave his breath smelly since he was pretty sure the other man would have said something about it, making this way more awkward than it felt at the moment. He winced at the sudden stretch when he felt a second finger join the first, pushing and pulling, twisting as Draco worked him open.

After a few minutes, Draco pulled his fingers out and sat back on his heels. He picked his wand up from the mattress, pointed it at his cock and covered himself in oil. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Harry replied nervously. He gasped and reflexively tightened as he felt the blunt head of Draco’s cock begin to nudge against him.

“Relax,” Draco cooed, “this’ll go easier if you don’t clench.”

Harry took deep even breaths. “That’s easy for you to say—you’re not the one on the receiving end,” he replied, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt Draco push past the ring of muscle. “H-have you ever done this before?”

Draco paused, giving Harry a funny look. “I have a son: that proves I have.”

“No, you berk, I meant with another man.”

“Oh.” Draco started pushing again, “No, you’re my first.” Harry tightened his grip on Draco’s arms, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the other man’s loins resting against his arse. Draco’s arms shook as he held himself up. His breathing was ragged as he said, “I have to move. Can I move, please?”

Harry quickly nodded, tossing his head back as Draco began to move. It was slow at first, pull out-push in, and Harry felt as if he could feel every bump and ridge of Draco’s cock as he thrust his hips. Harry tightened his thighs against Draco’s hips as he began to speed up--gradually increasing the depth of his strokes--wrapping his hands around the blond’s back as Draco plastered himself against his chest and kissed him. Harry pulled his mouth away to catch his breath as the combination of Draco’s thrusts--hitting something inside Harry that made him see stars--and the constant bumping against his leaking cock left him gasping.

Harry noticed Draco’s closed eyes and clenched down; that seemed to work as the man’s eyes flew open and he moaned loudly. Harry did it a second time, digging his nails into Draco’s arms as his thrusts became faster until Draco moved suddenly, grabbing Harry’s prick and stroking it as he stroked his insides. “Oh, fuck!” Harry shouted, coming in quick, hot bursts all over their chests and stomachs.

Draco whimpered and stopped moving; Harry made a face as he felt Draco’s come filling his insides. They lay there, trying to catch their breaths—Harry pushing at Draco. “Get off, you’re heavy as hell.”

Harry grunted as he felt Draco slip out of him, grimacing at the way his arse felt as if a lamp post had been shoved up it. After a moment, Draco turned on his side to face Harry. “So.”

“So?”

Draco ran his fingers through the mess on Harry’s stomach. “How was it?”

Harry thought a moment. “Well, it was definitely strange.” He back-pedaled quickly when Draco gave him a dirty look. “I didn’t mean the having sex with _you_ bit, I meant having something shoved up my arse.”

Draco snorted. “I take it you’ve never had sex with a man, either?”

“No, I’d have to say I never have,” Harry replied, turning onto his side to face Draco. “I do need a shower now, though.” He looked down at his chest, frowning as a few chest hairs stuck together. “I have a feeling if I don’t, I may lose a few hairs.”

Draco snickered. “Want me to join you?”

Harry sat up in bed, bending over to retrieve his glasses from inside his shirt. “Sure, but we have to be quick and we have to be quiet,” he said, searching through the pile of clothes for his underwear. “Ron and Hermione are supposed to be over with Rose and Hugo, and Ginny’s bringing James and Lily from her parents’ house.” He stood up and put his underwear on.

Draco did like-wise, turning to look at Harry. “They’re coming here?”

“Hermione sent an owl right before you came barreling into my sitting room—she thinks she might know a way to get Scorpius back, but she wanted to discuss it with me first.”

“And this requires the entire family?” Draco asked, removing the Silencing Charm from the bedroom.

“Draco,” Harry said, not noticing the surprised look Draco gave him upon hearing his given name, “James and Lily do still live here with me, and divorced or not, I’m not kicking Ginny out of the house. Besides that, Rose and Hugo are my children’s cousins.” He frowned. “Is this a problem?”

“No-no, no problem,” Draco replied quickly. “Shall we go take that shower now?”

Harry watched Draco open the bedroom door and walk out, presumably heading for the bathroom. Harry rubbed his forehead and sighed before following.

*~*~*

“Hi, Uncle Harry,” Rose greeted as she came tumbling out of the fireplace, dusting herself off.

Hugo landed beside her a second later. “Heya, Uncle Harry,” Hugo greeted as well, unknowingly copying his older sister as he brushed soot off his backside.

“Rose, Hugo,” Harry acknowledged each in turn. He peered around his niece and nephew, “Where’s your mum and dad?”

Hugo sat down on the recliner, pulling the handle to make the foot rest pop up. “Mum’s getting the food together so she can bring it over here—Dad’s ‘helping’ her.”

“Ah,” Harry said, nodding in understanding. “Let’s hope your father doesn’t eat all the food before the rest of us can have any.”

“Is Lily here?” Rose asked, taking a seat on the sofa and smoothing her skirt down. “She owled me a few days ago, asking for help on a report she has to do for Potions.” She shook her head. “I told her she should have started on it when it was assigned two weeks ago, but she said she was busy with Quidditch practice. Now she’s fretting about it and it’s due our first day back from holidays.”

Harry frowned. “I’ve told that girl that if she didn’t get her marks up, I’d forbid her from playing on the team. I might have to go through with my threat now,” he said in annoyance. The fireplace flashed green a moment before Ron came falling out, landing on his arse. “Ron, good to see you … what happened to your forehead?”

Ron grunted as he got to his feet, gingerly clutching a hand to his head. “Hermione happened. I was helping her pack up the food and thought a sample of turkey would be fine.” He rubbed gently at the small lump on his forehead. “I was apparently mistaken.”

Harry barely kept himself from bursting a vessel as he laughed at his friend’s predicament. He cleared his throat, trying to look serious as the fireplace once again flashed green and Hermione appeared, containers of food surrounding her feet. “Don’t just sit there staring, you lot, come help me take dinner into the kitchen.”

Rose quickly stood up. “I’ll help you, Mum,” she said, picking up a few containers and following her mother into the kitchen.

Hugo tried to make himself look smaller in the recliner, but his father cottoned on. “Go help your sister.”

“Da-ad,” Hugo whined, pushing the foot rest down and standing up. “Mum will make me set the table and wash the containers. You know I hate washing dishes the Muggle way.”

Ron folded his arms and stared at his son. “You have five seconds to go into the kitchen and help your mother—yes, without magic—before I put my foot in your arse. One…”

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll go, but if my hands chafe, I’m blaming you,” Hugo complained, picking up the last of the food containers and stomping into the kitchen.

Once Hugo was out of earshot, Ron said conversationally, “I was never like that, was I?”

Harry shook his head. “No, you weren’t, but then again, you had Molly as a mother. I don’t think you’d be around today if you acted like that with her.”

“I would have been skinned alive and made into a jumper if I had,” Ron agreed, laughing.

“Dad?” Albus called out, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he yawned. “Is Mum here yet?”

“Not yet. But your Aunt, Uncle and cousins are here.”

Albus stared sleepily at his Uncle. “Hey, Uncle Ron,” he greeted, giving his uncle a quick hug. “I didn’t hear you guys come in.” He sniffed at the air. “Mmm--Aunt Hermione cooked, didn’t she?”

“She did—why don’t you go help your aunt and your cousins in the kitchen for a bit?” Ron offered, patting him on the back.

“All right,” Albus replied, heading into the kitchen. Harry smiled at the joyous greeting he received from Hermione and the kids.

Ron sat down in the vacated recliner. “How’s Malfoy holding up?”

Harry walked over to the locked alcohol cabinet, opened it and took out two glasses. “Not very well.” He looked through the cabinet. “Care for a drink?”

“Firewhisky if you’ve got it,” Ron replied. “What’s the news?”

Harry poured generous amounts of firewhisky in each glass. He replaced the bottle and shut the door, relocking it. “He received another note from Scorpius’ abductors, this one detailing the when and where of the drop off.” He handed Ron his drink and sat down on the sofa. “Ron, they included a picture.”

Ron snorted a bit of the firewhisky up his nose, hacking and wheezing as it burned his nasal passages. “Gah,” he coughed. “W-what was the image of?”

“I’ve hidden the photo from Malfoy, so he wouldn’t sit there staring at it, but Ron, they’re-they’re … beating Scorpius.”

Ron stared in shock at Harry. “Poor kid, no one deserves that.” He took a big gulp of his drink. “You said Malfoy’s here?” At Harry’s nod, Ron shook his head and sighed. “Well, I can understand your reasoning, even if I don’t like him much,” he said, hoarsely.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when the front door opened.

“Hi, Daddy!” Lily said brightly, bouncing over to give Harry a hug around the neck. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Firewhisky,” he replied, patting his daughter’s arm affectionately.

Lily wrinkled her nose and stood up. “Oh, eew. No, thank you.”

“I’ll take some,” James said, plopping onto the cushion next to his father. He leaned sideways and reached for Harry’s glass.

Harry pulled his glass out of his son’s reach. “Not while you’re living under my roof, you’re not,” he replied in irritation, scowling at his son.

James sucked his teeth. “Dad, come on, I’m nineteen—plenty old enough to drink alcohol.”

“When you have your own flat and are paying your own way, then you can drink all the alcohol you want. Until then, the answer is and will remain, no.”

James turned pleading eyes to his mother as she closed the door. “Mum, can you please talk some sense into Dad here, he’s being unreasonable.”

“James, I’m not going over your father’s head just so you can get pissed,” Ginny replied as she folded her arms. “If your father says no, it means no, so stop asking.”

James stood up and glowered at his parents. “I’ll be in my room until dinner’s ready,” he stated sullenly, turning and walking down the hall to his room. They just barely made out his mumbled, “… you have _one_ party when your parents aren’t home, and they ban you from doing anything for life just because your mates have to get pissed and wreck the house.” He slammed his bedroom door, cutting off anything more he may have said.

Harry looked wide-eyed at his ex-wife. “That’s _your_ side of the family, not mine.”

“Oh, sure, blame me, as if I’m the one that named him after two troublemakers,” Ginny retorted in amusement and sat down.

“Speaking of trouble…” Harry turned irritated eyes towards his daughter. “ _Lily Luna Potter_.”

Lily’s eyes widened in alarm at her father’s firm tone and screeched, “What’d I do?!”

“It’s what you _didn’t_ do, young lady.” Harry sat forward, glowering at her. “Why am I finding out from your cousin that you’re putting off doing your schoolwork to play Quidditch?”

Lily scowled at no one in particular. “Rose has a big mouth,” she muttered. Lily looked up to see her parents and her Uncle staring at her in disappointment. “Dad, you know what it’s like—Slytherin has been kicking our arses recently and we’ve had to practice. That stupid teacher _knows_ this and continues to assign work during it.” She folded her arms and raised her nose in the air. “I had to prioritize—I chose Quidditch over some stupid report about the benefits of bezoars. As if I’m ever going to need to know that someday.”

“Excuse me,” Ron said stiffly, getting up from the recliner to head into the kitchen.

Harry shook his head and sighed. “Sunday morning I’m owling Headmistress McGonagall and telling her you’re forbidden from being on the Quidditch team until next year.”

“Dad! You can’t do that,” Lily cried, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. “What’s the big deal about some stupid report?”

“You want to try for seventh year? Or maybe until you leave school completely?”

Lily burst into tears and ran to her room, slamming the door in her distress. Harry turned to Ginny. “Don’t look at me,” she said, stealing his firewhisky and finishing it off. “I told you to put them back, but you wanted to keep them.” Harry palmed his face in exasperation.

“There I was, trying to relax, and I hear doors slamming,” Draco commented as he entered the sitting room, ignoring the shocked look Ginny gave him.

Harry looked up in apology. “Sorry about that.”

Draco waved it off. “They’re teenagers, unstable hormones are to be expected. It was what they consider ‘music’ that finally had me coming out here.” He sat down, relaxing in the recliner. “Good evening, Mrs. Potter … or is it Ms. Weasley now?”

“It’s Weasley.” She turned inquisitive eyes to her ex-husband. “Something you care to explain?”

“I can’t give you details, you know that, Ginny,” he told her, hoping she’d understand. But with the way she was eyeing him, she hadn’t. “Draco will be staying here for a few days.” Ginny folded her arms and gave him a ‘go on’ look. “Listen, I’ll try to explain some of what’s happening, but after dinner, yeah?”

Ginny stared at him--he suddenly felt like what a bug must go through under a microscope—and nodded. “I better go see if Hermione and Ron need any help in the kitchen.”

Draco watched her leave before turning to Harry. “Is the Potter household always this chaotic?”

“Pretty much,” Harry replied in resignation, pushing his glasses up his nose.

*~*~*

Dinner hadn’t gone exactly how Harry had planned. It had been rather stilted as neither James nor Lily would say much to him unless it was asking him to pass the roast potatoes. Even then, they barely looked in his direction.

Hermione had done a fabulous job cooking the turkey and making sure everyone was full and sated. Ginny’s cooking wasn’t bad, per se—her mother _was_ Molly Weasley—but she usually made it just edible enough to force down. He never told her of course, he enjoyed living a long peaceful life—well, as peaceful as having an ex-wife and three hormonal children could be.

After dinner the kids all went to their rooms--Ron and Hermione’s children were set about to clean up the dishes. The adults, save for Ginny--who begged forgiveness stating she had to leave for a Boxing Day game in Romania and had to get some sleep--went out into the sitting room. Harry had explained to Ginny, during the plum pudding, why Draco was staying over. She wasn’t happy about it, but she felt no ill-will towards Scorpius, scarcely putting up much of a fuss. Drinks were then poured and mince pies served as afters in the sitting room. Harry lazily waved his wand at the Christmas tree, watching it come to life as the lights began flickering. He was on the verge of falling asleep in his firewhisky when Hermione broke the silence.

“I’ve been at the office, going over anything that might help us find Scorpius,” she stated, pushing back an errant strand of brown hair that had fallen into her face.

Draco sat up straighter, leaning forward with hope shining in his eyes. “You found something?”

“Yes, and it was staring me in the face this whole time.” She shook her head in self-deprecation. “I can’t believe I could be so stupid—”

“Hermione,” Harry interrupted in frustration, “your point?”

“Right. Sorry.” She stood up, waving her drink about, not a little drunk. “Harry had come to me with the ransom note—”

“Which one?” Draco asked suddenly, looking from Hermione to Harry.

Hermione paused, frowning and turned to stare at Harry. “There was more than one?”

Harry stood on unsteady feet and walked to his desk. “Yes, I hid it so the children wouldn’t find it,” he lied, not wanting Draco to know his true reason for locking it away. “It came earlier today.” He waved his wand, unlocking the drawer to retrieve it. He handed it to Hermione, along with the picture, hoping it might also help.

Hermione accepted the items, taking a moment to read the note. When she came upon the picture, she gasped and wiped at her sudden tears. “What’s the point in beating a defenseless boy?” she asked, handing the picture to Ron when he held out his hand. “Especially when this person is more than likely a witch or wizard?”

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was becoming exceedingly annoyed at the reminder of Scorpius’ condition. He wanted to do nothing more than to forget what he had seen; unfortunately for him, he had no such recourse. “I couldn’t tell you, Hermione,” he replied in anger. Hermione looked up, her eyes wet with tears, and frowned at him. Harry noticed the look she’d given him and felt like an arse. “I’m sorry—you were saying something about what you’d found?”

Hermione used her sleeve to wipe at her eyes. “Well, I was wondering what we could do to find Scorpius and it finally hit me when I was going over the note.” She cleared her throat and smiled lightly. “A Translocator Spell.”

Harry slapped his forehead, making him wince at the contact. “Ow—of course! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He stumbled over to Hermione, and gave her an enormous hug, much to Draco’s amusement. “Hermione, have I told you how brilliant you are, recently?” He looked up. “All we have to do is cast the spell on the parchment and see where it leads us.”

“The question is,” Draco thought aloud, “what do we do when we _get_ there?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “Haven’t thought that far ahead, have you?”

“He’s right,” Ron commented, gaining surprised looks from the others. “What? I _can_ agree with Malfoy occasionally. It’s not as if the universe will explode into a million pieces if I do.”

Harry ignored Ron, turning instead to Draco. “What do you recommend? We can’t go in there with wands blazing—we have no idea how many people are holding him or what kinds of wards are surrounding the area. And,” he added, “how long it’ll take us to get there.”

“I don’t know,” Draco confessed, shaking his head in resignation. “You guys are the experts at these types of scenarios.”

“I might have an idea,” Hermione spoke up. “First we should wait until tomorrow—I doubt any of us are sober enough to walk, let alone take on what we might be up against. Second, we use the Translocater Spell, separate into two groups and search for him.” They stared in amazement that she could still think clearly even while drunk. “It’s the best chance we’ve got.” She shrugged.

“All right, tomorrow it is,” Harry announced, taking a hefty sip of his drink.

*~*~*

The next morning, Harry woke up in bed feeling alone. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence after his divorce over a year ago, but ever since yesterday evening with Draco, it felt much more prevalent. In fact, he wanted to march down the hall, nip into the guest bedroom, and have his turn at ravaging the blond man. The only reason he hadn’t done so already was the fact that his three children were sleeping in their rooms. Any one of them could come running into his room, find he wasn’t there, and then—knowing James as he did—go searching the entire house for their father. Wouldn’t that be quite a surprise seeing their father in bed with not only another man, but with Draco Malfoy, of all people?

Harry searched the sidetable for his glasses, felt them bump his hand and placed them on his nose. He shook his head, feeling a bit sore after his liaison with Draco, which was strange since he hadn’t felt it much after the deed had been done. Of course, with everything that had gone on that day, he shouldn’t have been surprised. He quickly dressed, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a green jumper he hoped Draco might like, even if they might never touch one another again.

He left his bedroom after dressing and bumped into the one person he’d been thinking of. “Good morning,” he greeted, smiling shyly. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling shy, but it could have been the leer that was thrown his way.

“Hello, Potter.” Draco looked Harry over from head to toe and smiled. “You’re looking edible today.”

Harry felt like giggling, but valiantly held it back. He was neither fourteen nor a girl. “Thank you … I think.” He gave Draco a once over as well, noting the sleek black trousers and mauve dress shirt. “You’re looking quite nice yourself.”

Draco smirked and headed down the hall towards the sitting room. “Granger and Weasley should be here soon—too bad, really.”

Harry was about to ask what Draco meant by that comment, when he was interrupted by the fireplace emitting a green flash seconds before Ron and then Hermione came tumbling out.

“Ready?” Hermione asked, getting straight to the point. The others in their group all nodded, waiting for her to take the lead. She seemed to sense this as she nodded and waved her wand over the ransom note she’d taken with her the night before. It shimmered briefly before turning a bright red, spun in place, and then fluttered to the ground. Hermione bent over to pick it up, raising a surprised eyebrow at the words written on it. “The spell worked,” she commented absently as if she was talking to herself. She looked up at her companions. “It originated from Cross Street.”

“Say, isn’t that in the same area the second note told Malfoy to make the drop?” Ron asked, perplexed. He looked at his wife, wondering if she’d made a mistake.

“I believe so.” She looked at Harry. “Are we dealing with a Squib?”

Harry blinked at her in astonishment. “That’s what I thought, but if you hold the note and concentrate, you can feel a slightly tingling residue of magic on it.”

She held it as he instructed, shivering at the minute wave. “You were right—a Squib is born with magic, but it’s such a small amount it hobbles their ability to perform even the simplest of spells. This parchment feels as if there was more than one person at work.”

“We should get going,” Harry commented. “We don’t know what we’ll find and I don’t know about you all, but I’d like to go there, rescue Scorpius and come back in one piece.” The others made agreeing noises, wanting to get the situation over and done with as soon as possible.

“All right. Harry?” He looked questioningly at Hermione. “We need you to take down the anti-Apparation wards you have around your home.

He nodded, eyes going blank a moment as he swished his wand in the air and muttered something under his breath. “Done.”

“Good. Is everyone ready?” The others nodded and waited for Hermione to continue. “Okay, let’s go,” she said and Disapparated.

*~*~*

They arrived separately on Cross Street, about five miles from the Tesco that was mentioned. Harry looked around, perplexed by the rows and rows of houses lining the street. “Hermione, what gives?” Harry asked in irritation. “We’re on the correct street,” he pointed to the street sign showing that they were indeed on Cross Street, “but any one of these houses could be the one with Scorpius in it. Are you sure you did the spell correctly?”

Hermione swatted him in the back of the head, eliciting a ‘hey!’ from him. “When have I ever been wrong?”

“Well, there was that one time …” He flinched at the scowl she directed at him. “You’re right, I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Ron stepped in to keep his wife from stomping on Harry’s foot as she seemed about ready to do. “All right, we’re here. Let’s break into two groups—Hermione’s with me. Harry, Malfoy, you two head north and we’ll go south. Sound good?”

Harry and Draco both nodded and took off down the opposite end. Harry was puzzled, looking around at the houses as they walked. He could sense the magic that was close by, but it wasn’t enough to pinpoint exactly where Scorpius was being kept and that irritated him. He’d read once—which was sure to make Hermione check his forehead for a fever—that if more than one wizard was involved, they could mingle their magical signatures together to make a spell stronger. It wasn’t something people did for fun as it tended to take a lot of energy out of the parties involved, leaving them weak and disoriented. It was a chance Harry was willing to take to rescue an innocent child. He just wasn’t sure how to go about merging their magic.

“Draco, I think if we somehow combined our magical signatures together, we’d have better luck finding Scorpius.”

“It won’t work.”

“How do you know it won’t work?” Harry stopped in his tracks to look back at his companion. “We haven’t even tried it yet.”

Draco ignored him as he walked along the street, head down, looking around.

“Draco?”

“Hush a moment, will you?” Draco said in annoyance and stopped, bending down to pick up a lean and dirty pipe from the ground. He waved his wand over the item, transfiguring it into a knife. Harry had a minor fleeting moment of panic, wondering if Draco was about to stab him with it. Draco caught the brief fear in his eyes and gave him a disbelieving look. “I’m not going to use this on you, you berk. For us to come within a yard of where Scorpius may be held, we need some of my blood.”

“What the hell for?”

“I’m his biological father, hence half of Scorpius’ blood is mine and half is his mother’s. If she were still alive, she’d be able to do this as well.” Without giving Harry a chance to ask more bloody questions, Draco held his left hand out and cut a long strip across his palm, wincing at the cut. “Come here, quickly.” Harry sprinted over to him, eyeing his hand in curiosity. “Don’t just stand there watching me bleed, pull your wand out and repeat after me…”

Harry did as instructed, repeating every word Draco uttered, and waving his wand over the other man’s bleeding hand. No sooner had Harry finished, there was a bright flash of yellow light that soared into the air, paused a moment and flew down the street to explode in sparks between two houses. The sparks remained between the houses for a few minutes—Harry committed the location to memory and turned to look at Draco. Draco waved his wand over his bleeding hand, repairing the damage as he spoke.

Just as Draco finished, the sparks disappeared. “You remember where it stopped?” Draco asked, flexing his newly healed hand.

“Yeah, just down the road. Come on.” Harry led the way down the quiet street, stopping just in front of the area he remembered. “It stopped here.” He indicated with his wand.

Draco nodded. “We’re going to have to search both houses.” He gave Harry a smirk worthy of their first meeting. “ _Now_ we can combine our magic.”

“I’m trembling with anticipation here.”

“No need for sarcasm.”

Harry grumbled under his breath and began the process. He closed his eyes, concentrating on merging his energy with Draco’s. He fought the urge to open his eyes and stare at his lover as he felt the blond’s emotions along with his magic. Was that..? He startled slightly when he felt Draco’s hand in his own, reaffirming the temporary bond between them. Harry slowly opened his eyes, concentrating on the magical signature he felt when they’d arrived, searching for Draco’s missing son.

They turned as one, picking up the energies coming from the house on the right. Draco slowly removed his hand, leaving Harry feeling bereft as the gentle warmth left him. Harry bent over, breathing shallowly as he caught his breath. The books he’d read on the subject had been quite accurate in their descriptions on the aftermath of the joining. Harry shook his head before standing up to see Draco doing the same. “Stand back,” Harry cautioned Draco when the other man began to move forward. “There are wards surrounding the building—mostly Muggle-repelling wards, but I sense a few traces of security ones as well.”

“Right. I’ll wait back here,” Draco said, moving away from the house. Security wards were known to be nasty to anyone who tried to enter without knowing the reversal spell--there were quite a few of them surrounding the manor.

Harry ignored everything around him, including the sweat that had gathered on his forehead and dripped down into his eyes. The slightest slip could cause any number of unfortunate things to happen, the worst being the whole street could disintegrate around them, killing innocent Muggle families. One particular ward was booby-trapped—every time Harry got through one thread, another appeared in its place. He worked through them without too much difficulty owing to the fact that Harry’s main job as an Auror had been in the Curse Breaking Department. The wizarding community knew they existed, but this particular area had been a subset of the Unspeakables, one reason why Harry had retired early. The job was becoming too dangerous to continue—he couldn’t fathom leaving his children grieving without their father, knowing all too well what something like that did to a child.

“Almost … got it … there!” Harry cried triumphantly, slumping over briefly from the exertion. He took a moment to catch his breath, feeling as though he had run a marathon in under five minutes. “Draco,” he wheezed out, “stay behind me and don’t touch anything until I’ve checked it over. There may be more wards inside.”

Draco nodded as they slowly moved forward. The ground floor and first floor of the house were clear, no wards or booby-traps to be seen or felt. This was slightly odd in Harry’s opinion, but he pushed it aside as they moved further into the house, making their way into the basement.

“Scorpius!” Draco called out, pushing against Harry to get to his son. “Unhand me, Potter!”

Harry held Draco back with a firm hand to his chest. “Give me a minute to check for any wards down here, all right? Last thing we need you doing is getting us all killed by something we didn’t see.”

Draco growled, but acquiesced, nodding his head as he stood back.

Harry concentrated with all his power, feeling, searching for anything that might be hidden. He opened his eyes in surprise, noting that the basement was completely devoid of any non-human magic. “It’s safe, what we felt must have been coming from outside. I guess they figured no one would get past the wards.”

Draco pushed Harry aside, much to his annoyance, running down the steps two at a time. Harry wondered how the blond hadn’t broken his neck in his haste. He followed Draco down, standing back as he took in the sight of Draco crouching down in front of Scorpius.

“Scorpius?” Draco said softly, gently shaking his son’s shoulder. “Potter, help me untie him.”

Harry walked quickly to Draco and Scorpius, having a hard time keeping his grimace of sympathy from showing at taking in the younger Malfoy’s face. Scorpius was unconscious, worrying Harry as he placed his fingers against the boy’s neck, feeling for a pulse. “He’s still alive, but his pulse is weak.”

“What did those fiends do to you?”

They quickly untied Scorpius, Draco showing surprising strength by lifting his unconscious son into his arms, cradling him to his chest as he carried Scorpius towards the stairs--his wand forgotten in his trouser pocket. Harry led the way out of the house, stopping to pull out his wand to send his Patronus up the street towards Ron and Hermione—letting them know where they would be. Harry glanced briefly at Draco, whose face was set into a stony expression. Harry held onto Draco’s arm as he Apparated the three of them to St. Mungo’s.

*~*~*

Scorpius spent the next two days in hospital, recovering from his injuries—a fractured skull being the worst. Draco Malfoy had become a permanent fixture in his son’s room, refusing to move. Harry had to bring him a change of clothing and food.

Harry had informed his youngest son--barely moving in time to keep from getting trampled in his son’s haste to run outside--Disapparating with such force, Harry thought Albus would Splinch himself. Harry arrived minutes later, staring up at the abandoned red-brick department store before entering.

“How are you feeling?”

Harry heard Albus ask right as he entered Scorpius’ hospital room. It was your typical dreary, sterile environment. The walls and floors were a pristine white tile, ugly flower-print curtains covered the window, and against the wall was a single occupant bed. He was almost positive Draco had thrown a fit at the accommodations; luckily for the staff of St. Mungo’s they had allowed Scorpius his own room.

Scorpius sat up, wincing a little at the effects from the Skele-Gro potion. “I’ve been better, but the Healers say I can go home this afternoon.” He chuckled. “Good thing too, I was getting tired of what passed as food around here.”

Albus moved to sit beside his boyfriend, pausing as he looked to Draco for permission.

“Oh, don’t mind me. Go on, sit down, I need to get up anyway,” Draco answered, standing from the chair he’d sat in for the last two days.

“I’ll join you,” Harry said, following Draco out into the room.

As he left, he heard Scorpius ask, “What was _that_ about?”

“Draco?”

“What?”

Harry was taken aback by the gruffness in Draco’s voice. “Are you all right?”

Draco stopped and folded his arms. “I’m fine—well, maybe not ‘fine’, but I’m doing all right.” He leaned against the wall. “I’m glad Scorpius is away from whoever it was that took him, but he hasn’t said much about it. I’m hoping he’ll tell us who it was and what happened when he’s ready.”

“I’m sure he will,” Harry replied softly. “It was a traumatic experience. You can’t expect him to get over in only a few days. Give it time.”

Draco cleared his throat. “I was wondering, would you and your children like to come over to the manor for a while? As much as father has given me a great deal of support, I don’t think I could handle his strange moods alone right now.” Harry’s mouth fell open, gobsmacked. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just thought—”

“Draco.” The blond looked up. “I think I’d like that. But it’ll only be Albus and I. Lily’s grounded indefinitely until she raises her marks and James is out with a friend of his from school.” He matched Draco’s posture. “I hope you won’t be too disappointed?”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Draco answered with amusement.

Harry smirked, his eyes twinkling in delight. “We’d better head back. I’m sure our sons can control themselves, but you remember how it was being a randy teenager.” He snickered. “We might find them in a compromising position.”

“Heaven forbid.”

*~*~*

Albus could barely contain his excitement as he and his father stood outside the manor property, waiting to be allowed inside. He’d never been to Scorpius’ home before, only heard stories about it from his boyfriend when they were in the library, trying to study. Well, Albus was trying to study, Scorpius, as smart as he was, always tried to get him to do things inappropriate for library use.

Finally, after what seemed like days to Albus, Draco strolled out into the front garden—Scorpius trailing behind him. Albus and his father backed up a few steps while Draco pulled his wand out and removed the wards to let them through. Albus walked quickly to his boyfriend and engulfed him in a warm hug.

“Jeez, Albus, it’s only been a few hours since you last saw me at hospital. I’m not going anywhere,” Scorpius said, amusement flowing out of him in waves.

Albus pulled back, unapologetic in his behavior. “I won’t dignify that with a response. So what do you want to do? I know you said you had your own Quidditch pitch, which is awesome, by the way.”

“I was thinking of showing you the garden shed instead,” Scorpius whispered and nuzzled his boyfriend’s ear.

Two loud throats clearing kept Albus from wondering aloud why he’d want to see some old shed.

“Boys, we’re standing right here,” Harry said in exasperation. “I don’t know about Mister Malfoy, but I’d like to keep on pretending my son is innocent and knows nothing about sex.”

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more, Mister Potter.”

“Honestly, Dad,” Scorpius replied, rolling his eyes. “Would it be all right if I showed Al around? He’s never seen the grounds.”

Albus watched their dads give each other a knowing look before his dad said, “I don’t see any harm in it. Do you, Draco?”

“I suppose so, but try to make it back before dinner. I am in no mood to have Trixie fussing at me again.” He turned his attention to Harry. “If Mum hadn’t died a few years after we acquired Trixie, I would’ve sworn she had been reincarnated as a house-elf.”

“Come on, Al, before our fathers say anything else embarrassing.”

Scorpius led Albus around the grounds, stopping occasionally to point out something he thought the Slytherin boy might enjoy. Albus walked around in wide-eyed wonder, quite impressed with everything he took in. The white peacocks strutting around were very beautiful until one of them gave chase after the boys. Scorpius ran ahead, never letting go of Albus’ hand as he led him a safe distance away from the demented birds.

Albus found himself outside a run-down shed, which he assumed had been the one that Scorpius mentioned earlier. “I see why you wanted to show me this,” Albus commented dryly. “Nothing says ‘sexy’ like rust and mildew.”

“Quiet, you,” Scorpius said, swatting at Albus. He opened the door, a loud squeak permeating the area—Muggles would compare it to the sound made by running their nails across a chalkboard. Albus unclenched his teeth at the noise as Scorpius pulled him inside.

Albus looked around, noting the large spider web in the corner, and felt Scorpius’ arms encircle his waist from behind. “Something you want?” He asked coyly, snickering when Scorpius huffed in his ear.

“Only you,” he said softly, turning Albus around and kissing him deeply.

Albus opened to the kiss, putting all his fears and anxiety into his actions. It had been a long week for him, worrying about whether Scorpius would be all right. Hoping and praying his lover was still alive and in one piece. He placed his hands firmly on Scorpius’ chest, rubbing and squeezing the hard muscle he found under the purple silk shirt, enjoying the way the Ravenclaw’s muscles jerked under his ministrations. Albus wanted to show him how much he was missed and reluctantly pulled away from his lips. Scorpius frowned at him, waiting for him to do something. With practiced hands, Albus quickly unfastened Scorpius’ trousers, letting them slide down the solid muscle of his thighs.

He dropped to his knees, leaning forward to inhale the strong musky odor of his boyfriend’s groin through his silk boxers. In one swift move, Albus yanked them down just far enough to see Scorpius’ cock, erect and wet at the tip, just for him. Albus held Scorpius’ cock in his hand for a second before taking him into his mouth. He inwardly smiled at the gasp this brought from deep within the blond’s chest. Albus slowly pulled back until only the moist tip remained inside, moving his head forward to take it all in. He continued his in and out rhythm until Scorpius stopped him with a firm hand on his forehead.

Albus looked up in confusion at being stopped.

“I want to come inside you—can I?”

Albus’ breath hitched and he nodded. Scorpius helped him to his feet, quickly undoing his jeans and pushing them down before turning him to face the windowsill. “ _Accio_ oil,” Scorpius said, catching the jar out of the air as it came sailing towards him. Albus chuckled, amusement shining in his eyes as Scorpius switched hands to hold the jar, shaking out the one that was assaulted. “Har, har. Let’s see if you find _this_ funny.”

Albus gasped, tightening the muscles in his anus, as Scorpius encircled the small opening with the tip of his finger. A moment later, Albus relaxed into the ministrations, feeling himself loosen as Scorpius pumped his finger in and out. He groaned, pushing his arse back when he felt Scorpius removing his finger—only to moan deeply, hanging his head when he felt the blunt tip of the other boy’s prick penetrating him.

“Ah … _ah_!” Albus cried out, his grip on the windowsill tightening with the force of Scorpius’ swift entrance.

“Oh, sweet Merlin, you’re so hot … so tight,” Scorpius moaned softly in Albus’ ear, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy beneath him.

Albus couldn’t do much of anything but moan gutturally as his skin tingled every time his lover thrust inside him, hitting that spot in him that made him want to sob from the pure pleasure it brought forth. “Uh … uh—oh _God_ , I _love_ you!” He shouted, clamping down forcefully when Scorpius thrust in.

“Fuck!” Scorpius tightened his hold around the Slytherin’s waist, whimpering as he came in long, hot spurts into the body beneath him.

Albus removed his right hand from the windowsill, moving it quickly to his cock as he pumped it fiercely. He came not too long after when Scorpius added his hand to Albus’. They stood bent over for a while, catching their breaths. Albus whined lowly when Scorpius pulled back, his cock slipping out and leaving a trail of come in its wake. Albus stood up slowly, enjoying the burn in his arse he could feel when he moved. He removed his boxers completely, using them to clean them both up before redressing.

Scorpius leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Albus’ lips. “I love you, too,” he softly replied when he pulled away.

Albus blushed. He hadn’t meant to tell Scorpius how he felt in the middle of a _really_ good shag, but it sort of popped out in the heat of the moment. “I … wait, how long have we been out here?”

“Uh, thirty minutes, maybe. Why?”

“What time’s dinner suppose to be?” asked Albus, noticing it was dark outside.

Scorpius banged his head against the wall in dread. “Shit, Dad’s going to kill me.” He rushed to the door of the shed and flung it open. “We have to go—we’re late and it’ll take us ten minutes to run back to the manor.”

“Right behind you!” Albus called out, running after the other boy.

*~*~*

“How long do you reckon the kids will be?” asked Harry, walking alongside Draco down the front garden path.

“Well,” Draco said and stopped when they entered the terrace, “you were once a teenager … how long do you think?”

Harry laughed, taking a seat next to Draco on the garden bench. “I’ll guess … not very long.” He leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Draco, about the other day…”

“Which day are you referring to? There’ve been quite a few days that have come and gone since we’ve known each other.”

“I’m speaking about the day you said I looked, and I quote, ‘edible’.”

“What about it?”

Harry growled and stood up. Draco was being obtuse on purpose and it rankled Harry. “You can be such a tosser at times.” Harry began to pace in irritation. He needed to know where he stood with Draco. He couldn’t get their one and only time together out of his mind.

“So, I’ve been told. Look, Potter—”

“Stop calling me ‘Potter’!” Harry shouted. He balled up his fists, keeping them at his sides as he fumed down at the blond. “We had sex—the least you could do is address me by my given name.”

Draco stood up as well. “What’s got your wand in a knot, _Harry_?”

“I don’t want to continue what we’re doing.”

“What are you on about?”

“This _thing_ between us,” said Harry, gesturing his hand between the two of them. “I can’t stop thinking about that night— what you said … what we did.”

“Potter … Harry, I know you’re upset, but I told you—I’m not ready to date anyone. Why can’t we just have the occasional shag?”

Harry whipped around so forcefully, his glasses came close to flying off his face. “Because that’s not who I am!” He took a deep breath. “Draco, I’ve only ever dated two people before—Cho and Ginny. I was a virgin until Ginny and I were engaged. Even now, being divorced, I’m not off sleeping around.”

Draco rushed Harry, grabbing his arms in a strong hold. “And you think _I_ am?!” Harry was shaken by Draco. “Despite what people might think of me and my family, we are not whores! We don’t shag everything that moves.” Draco shook Harry with every word.

Harry growled and kicked his leg out, knocking Draco to the hard concrete terrace. Draco gasped at the impact, wrapping his hands around Harry’s throat and squeezing as the two men fought. Harry punched Draco in the stomach, moving as the blond let go. They got to their feet and rushed each other again, the impact knocking Harry’s glasses off. Knee met groin, sending Harry to _his_ knees. Draco launched a kick at the Gryffindor—Harry blocked it, grabbing the leg and pulling. Draco was sent sprawling on his arse, chest heaving as the wind was knocked out of him.

Harry pulled his balled up hand back, ready to strike, and stopped. He gazed down at the man beneath him--bleeding from his lip, eyes set in defiance as he waited for Harry’s blow. Harry stared at Draco, expression one of disbelief, and kissed him. Draco made a brief noise of protest before succumbing to the insistent probing of Harry’s tongue. Draco’s hands grabbed at Harry’s torn shirt, pulling him closer, fusing their lips together in their anger at one another.

“Draco, I’m sor—”

“Shh!” Draco shushed urgently, lifting his head as he strained to hear. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what…?” Harry’s eyes widened as he caught sight of their sons returning. “Oh, shit,” he whispered, moving away from Draco quickly.

They helped each other stand up, Harry found his glasses near the foot of the bench—it was obvious they’d been fighting. They hastily smoothed their dirty, disarrayed clothing back into place.

Albus ran up to his father. “Good, we’re not late,” he wheezed out, short of breath from running. He looked up at both men and frowned. “Dad, honestly, aren’t you a little old to resort to fighting?”

“I thought you said physical violence was beneath a Malfoy?” Scorpius added, giving his father a smug look.

“We should be going,” Harry replied instead, missing the hurt look Draco gave him.

“What? Dad, no.” Albus moved to stand in front of Harry. “You said we’d be staying. I don’t want to leave!”

Scorpius rounded on his own father. “Please, Dad. Don’t make them go.”

Draco sent a look to Harry. _Don’t hurt my son, please._ Harry read in his face and stance.

“If Mister Malfoy allows it, we can stay,” he finally said.

Both boys turned to the blond man. “Dad?”

After a long pause, Draco finally answered, “Very well.”

“Thanks, Mister Malfoy!”

“Thanks, Dad! Come on, Al. We don’t want to upset Trixie—she tends to burn the roast,” Scorpius said, pulling Albus behind him into the manor.

“What are you thinking?” Draco asked, looking at the blank expression on Harry’s face.

“Mainly about us.” He turned to face Draco. “I meant what I said.”

“I know.” Draco took Harry’s hand into his own. “We’ll discuss it some more, later.”

Harry sighed and nodded. “All right.” Their hands remained clasped until they reached the foyer of the manor, then let go, but walked closely together.

“Do you think the boys suspect anything?”

“I don’t believe so. I’m pretty sure they’re preoccupied with other things.”

“How do you know?” Draco asked, curious.

Harry gave him a cheeky grin. “I saw the way Al was walking.”

*~*~*

Harry lay in bed in the guest bedroom—not far from Draco’s own—staring up at the vaulted ceiling. Dinner had been a delicious, if uneventful affair for him. He had chatted about inconsequential things with Draco as they ate, ignoring the coy looks their sons kept giving each other. Lucius had joined them during the second course, patting his grandson on the head as he walked by to take his seat. Harry decided to ignore the older Malfoy, but couldn’t help engaging in the topic of conversation when it turned from their vague chattering to one of politics. Lucius may have gone a little funny since Narcissa had passed on—the details of which, Harry still wasn’t sure of and didn’t think he needed to know—but his skill at debating was as sharp as ever.

After dinner, they went to their separate rooms. He wasn’t sure about Al and Scorpius, but he wasn’t going to check—he didn’t want to surprise them in the middle of a cuddle or whatever they happened to be doing. Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. _I should probably go talk to Draco … this time **without** resorting to a physical altercation._ He searched the sidetable for his glasses, placing them on his face as he sat up. _Which room did Draco say he was staying in?_ Harry thought, standing in the hall, trying to remember. _Heh, the manor could double as a hotel if they ever ran out of money … or a maze._

He finally found a room that looked like it might be Draco’s after searching the corridor for ten minutes. _This is why I like my home: it’s small enough to know where everything is._ He listened through the door, hoping he wasn’t actually outside Scorpius’ room, and knocked loudly. No answer. He tried again, a little louder this time since the doors were thicker than regular ones. Still no answer. Cautiously, he turned the doorknob, glad to find it unlocked and opened it slowly. “Draco?” he called out, waiting for an answer.

He frowned when he received none. _This is definitely Draco’s room, unless his son likes the whole Slytherin motif as well._ He quickly looked around—he didn’t want to be accused of snooping if Draco returned—and walked out. He startled, feeling his heart trying to jump out of his chest, bumping into someone. He whirled around, wand drawn out, ready to hex whoever it was.

“Dad, it’s me!” Albus cried, eyes wide in surprised fear.

“Al, you startled me,” Harry said, lowering his wand quickly. “Have you seen Mister Malfoy?”

“No, and I can’t find Scorpius.” He blushed and cleared his throat. “I was going to see if he wanted some company, but he’s not in his room.” He pulled out his own wand. “I don’t like this, Dad, it feels … odd, doesn’t it?”

Harry nodded, turning down the corridor. “It does. Stay close behind me, all right?”

“All right,” Albus whispered in agreement, sticking close to his father.

They carefully moved further down the corridor, Harry silently checking each door they came upon. It was too quiet in the manor; almost as if the usual sounds of an old building had been silenced. The corridor spilled out into the main hall and Harry froze, signaling Albus to remain quiet as voices floated towards them.

“What do you think this will accomplish?” Lucius snarled, fighting at his bonds.

“Everything!” Macnair cackled, pointing his wand at Draco. “ _Crucio_!”

Harry watched as Draco thrashed in his chair, trying valiantly to hold back his screams of pain.

“Stop it!” Harry heard Scorpius cry, fighting to remove his bonds, but having no luck. “Leave my father alone, he’s done nothing wrong!”

“Nothing wrong?” Macnair whirled to face Lucius. “Tell him, Lucius, tell him how his own father failed to follow through with the Dark Lord’s orders. How Draco’s disgrace led to his downfall.” He punched Lucius in the face in anger. “ _Tell him_!”

Lucius glared in hatred at Macnair. “Tell him what? Are you still harboring resentment over something that happened twenty-five years ago?” Lucius spat blood onto the floor. “There’s nothing to tell. The Dark Lord lost, they won, get over it.”

“Dad,” Albus whispered in distress, “what do we do? He has them at wandpoint.”

Harry’s mind was frantic as he observed the scene in front of him. All three Malfoys were tied to chairs, Draco being in the center and the worse for wear. Scorpius looked unharmed and Lucius had a black eye and split lip. He looked around, searching for evidence of any others in the room. Macnair was the only one he could see, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more. He quickly waved his wand, whispering, “ _Homenum revelio_.” The spell detected only six humans in the area, which meant no one besides Macnair was there—no one human, that is.

He hoped to God that there was nothing inhuman in the vicinity and moved quickly, ducking behind a pillar, waiting for Macnair to move out of eyesight before moving to the next. Albus followed closely behind him, only one pillar away each time Harry moved. He stopped when he was close enough to get a good shot and shouted, “ _Expelliarmus_!”

Macnair’s wand flew out of his hand and landed near Scorpius’ feet. Before Harry could cast the Full-Body Bind on the ex-Death Eater, Macnair was behind Draco with a dagger at his throat.

“Drop your wand or I’ll slice his throat open!” Macnair shouted, pressing the blade of the dagger hard enough to cause blood droplets to appear on Draco’s neck.

“Forget about me, Harry! Save Scorpius!”

Harry’s wand wavered for a moment in indecision. Draco was in his forties and had lived his life, but Scorpius was only seventeen—he needed his father. Harry caught slight movement in the peripheral of his eye. Albus motioned quickly to his father, gesturing what he planned to do. Harry barely moved a muscle as he acknowledged his son. “I’m not letting you walk out of here, Macnair,” Harry growled low in his throat. “Let them go.”

“You were warned, Potter. Malfoy’s blood is on _your_ hands!”

Macnair moved to strike, falling over when Albus shouted, “ _Stupefy_!”

Harry dashed over to Macnair, kicking the blade out of his reach as he bound him with the Body-Bind Curse. Satisfied the ex-Death Eater could cause no more harm, Harry helped Albus in untying the three Malfoys. Lucius stood up, rubbing his chafed wrists, ignoring his minor injuries.

“Draco, are you all right?” Harry asked worriedly as he finished removing the binding around Draco’s wrists and feet.

Harry was caught off-guard as Draco grabbed him by the collar and hauled him in for a deep kiss.

“Eew, Dad, I didn’t want to see that!” Al said, making little gagging faces at the two men.

“Gee, this won’t be odd at all. My father snogging my boyfriend’s father. I suddenly feel like I’m in an incestuous relationship,” Scorpius said sardonically, ducking away from the swat Albus aimed at his head.

“I can leave you tied up, you know,” Albus said dryly, smirking at the pout his boyfriend gave him.

Harry reluctantly pulled away, pressing his forehead to Draco’s. “We’ll talk later, right?”

“Of course.”

Lucius moved to the fireplace, calling the Ministry to have the Aurors come and pick up Macnair. “He’s here. Do be quick about it—I’ll not have this rubbish cluttering up my living space.”

*~*~*

 _Three days later…_

The holidays were over and school was starting up again, which is why Harry found himself on platform 9 ¾, seeing his two youngest children off. Between answering questions the Aurors had about his being at Malfoy Manor, and how Macnair came to be there when the wards should have kept him out—Draco had forgotten to raise them after their visit—Harry hadn’t had a chance to talk to Draco.

“No matter how many times I do this, it never gets any easier,” Ginny said quietly to Harry.

Harry watched his children placing their belongings near the train and chatting to friends they missed during the break. “There’s always Easter,” he said offhandedly, smiling at Ginny.

“There’s Hermione, I’ll be right back.” Ginny walked off in the direction of the bushy-haired woman who stood with her children.

“I’m going to miss you, Daddy,” Lily said when she stopped in front of her father.

Harry bent over slightly to give his daughter a warm hug. “I’m going to miss you as well.” He pulled back and gave her a serious look. “I owled Headmistress McGonagall. If you raise your marks and keep them up for two months, she’ll reinstate your Quidditch privileges.”

Lily squealed and hugged her father tightly. “Thank you, Daddy!” She pulled back, looking sheepish. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“I was never mad at you, Lily. Disappointed, yes. But never mad,” Harry replied, kissing his daughter on the forehead. “You’d better get on the train, or all the good seats will be taken.”

“Okay.” She turned to go, but turned back. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too.”

Lily’s smile was so bright, Harry thought his heart might stop. He waved at her as she ran to the train, stopping briefly to wish her mother well. Harry smiled and turned to see Albus walking towards him.

“Well, Dad, it’s been an interesting Christmas break,” he said by way of greeting.

Harry nodded, laughing. “That it has. You’ll owl me?”

“Of course I will.”

“That’s what you said at the start of school and I barely received a letter from you.”

Albus shuffled a bit. “Well, Scorpius kind of took up all my time.”

“Do me a favor, don’t get caught snogging in a classroom. Your mother could tell you stories of our time together…”

“Eew, Dad,” Albus interrupted, making a face. “I don’t want to know, really. I’m perfectly happy living in ignorant bliss.”

Harry laughed uproariously. “I’m sorry, Al. Do me a favor and don’t fight with your sister. I don’t want to receive any more letters about the pranks you pull on her.”

“Dad, it’s to be expected. I’m a Slytherin and she’s a Gryffindor,” he said cheekily.

Harry shook his head in amusement. “Come here, you brat,” he said before pulling his son into a hug.

“Dad, you’re squishing me and people are watching.”

Harry stepped back. “Go on. Your Mum will have my arse if you’re late getting on the train.”

“Bye, Dad.”

“Bye.” Harry waved at his children as the train began to move, taking them back to school and out of his life once more. He waited until the train was completely out of sight before walking up to Ron and Hermione. “Rose and Hugo doing well?”

Ron nodded. “They said they’d write, but you know how they are. We’ll be lucky to get one letter with all the ‘fun’ they’ll be having.”

“Not as much as we had, yeah?”

“If you call almost getting killed every year as fun, then sure,” Ron replied with laughter in his eyes.

“Ron?” Hermione said, getting his attention.

“Yes, dear?”

“We have to go if we’re going to make it to your mum’s house in time for lunch.”

“All right.” He turned back to Harry. “See ya, Harry.”

“Bye, Ron. Bye, Hermione.” He waved at them as they went back through the barrier.

“Well, I’m off. I’ve got a Quidditch match scheduled for later tonight,” Ginny said, leaning in for a hug.

Harry hugged back and stepped away. “Take care, Ginny. Be safe.”

“I will. Tell James to owl me once in a while.”

“Sure.” Harry watched her walk off towards the barrier and disappear.

“You two seem cozy,” Draco commented, moving to stand next to Harry.

Harry turned and frowned at the blond. “Draco, do I detect a note of jealousy in your tone? Besides, Ginny and I are still friends. We won’t stop being in each other’s lives just because we’re no longer married.”

“I see.”

“Did Scorpius get on the train?” Harry asked conversationally, trying to change the subject. “I didn’t see him in the crowd.”

“Yes. I asked him to owl me after the feast, so I’ll know he arrived safely.” He grinned at Harry. “He never does anymore, though. Not since he started going out with your son.” Draco sighed and shook his head. “I’m not sure I want to think about how the two of them shag at school. I barely had any private time to myself when I was there. Of course, a certain someone kept following me in sixth year.”

“And rightly so; you were up to no good during that time.”

The train platform was emptying out as parents left through the barrier to go home. Harry and Draco followed the small crowd to leave themselves.

“It was a different time for us,” Draco replied, walking through the barrier. He waited for Harry to come out next and said, “Luckily, our children will never have to live through what we did at school.”

“No child should have to go through what we did … ever.”

They walked through King’s Cross Station, weaving in between Muggles as they were hurrying to their destinations. When they reached an area marked off from the Muggles, they looked around to be sure no one was watching. Before Harry could Disapparate, Draco said, “Come by the manor tonight. We still need to talk.”

“Sure thing,” he replied, watching Draco nod and vanish. Harry couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he disappeared as well.

*~*~*

Later that night, Harry found himself going through the trouble of making himself presentable for Draco. He didn’t know what to expect, but if anything _did_ happen, he wanted to be prepared. James was out staying with his friend for the night, who, Harry found out, was actually a girl, which just gave him a headache. His children were growing up so fast, it was mind-boggling.

He looked in his full-length mirror, scrutinizing the outfit he wore. It wasn’t spectacular, in his opinion, but Draco might like it. He wore a tight-fitting green dress shirt and black trousers that did nothing to hide the slight swell in his crotch. Harry tried valiantly to tame his wild hair, but as usual, nothing could keep it from looking like he’d been spooked. He shrugged, sighed, and headed out to the manor.

He reappeared moments later just outside the wards surrounding Malfoy Manor. Harry looked around, hoping he wouldn’t have to make a spectacle of himself to get Draco to notice he was there waiting. Soon enough, there was Draco, dressed to kill himself, swaggering down the path to let Harry inside.

“Harry,” he greeted, eyeing Harry from head to toe and back again. “I dare say your sense of style is improving. I’m impressed.”

“Shove off, Draco,” Harry swatted at the other man, cheeks going red at the backwards compliment. “You said you wanted us to talk?”

“Indeed.” Draco led Harry through the manor and down the long corridor to his bedroom.

Harry froze where he was when he realized where they were headed. “You want us to chat inside your bedroom?”

“Why not?” Draco leered at Harry, making him want to jump the blond where he stood. “Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”

“Pfft, you wish.”

“All right, then, shift it,” Draco replied, gesturing for Harry to go in first. Harry had been correct in his earlier assessment, the room with all the green and black _had_ been Draco’s bedroom. At a guess, the bed had to be a queen-sized bed, covered in black silk sheets and the carpeting was a rich deep green.

Harry swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to make himself look small. He startled when Draco closed the door, walking smoothly to sit next to Harry.

“Draco, I—”

“Harry,” Draco interrupted, “I’ve given what we talked and fought about a lot of thought, and you’re right, I think we _should_ try for a relationship.”

Harry blinked, taken aback. “Really?”

“Yes.” Draco sighed and looked down at his shoes. “I used my wife’s death as an excuse to keep from getting close to anyone, except my father and son, of course. I believe it’s high time I moved on.”

“I-I’m not sure what to say,” Harry confessed. He felt exhilarated that Draco wanted a relationship with him, but he was also a little scared. Was this what he had wanted all along? Or was it the chase that made him act how he did? He sighed mentally, confused at his swirling thoughts. “I’ve thought about us as well,” Harry finally replied, giving Draco a warm look. “I do want us together, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Draco seemed to relax, sighing heavily and laughing a little. “Thank Merlin. I thought I was going to have to serenade you outside your home, or worse yet, write love letters to get you to agree.”

“My poor neighbors would have found a way to hex me, Muggle or not,” Harry laughed lightly. Without thinking, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on the side of Draco’s mouth.

Draco didn’t appear to like that very much, grabbing Harry’s collar and yanking him to his lips. Harry opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, receiving a moan for his troubles. “I must warn you now,” Draco said breathlessly as soon as he broke their kiss. “I’m not very easy to live with.”

Harry rested his forehead against Draco’s. “Oh, that’s all right. I’ve got three teenagers—one of which will find this situation extremely odd.”

Draco snorted, chuckling as he captured Harry’s lips once more.

 **End**


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